The Challenge
by Sariniste
Summary: For over one hundred years, Aizen Sousuke has manipulated—and corrupted—souls for his use and amusement. Nothing has ever interfered with his schemes for power. But when he encounters a seemingly naïve human girl, all may not go entirely according to plan. Dark. Threats of violence; compulsion; deceit. AiHime, follows canon through chapter 420. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**The Challenge - Chap. 1  
**

**by Sariniste**

**A/N:** What were Aizen's thoughts behind that smirk in the last panel of manga chapter 249? What are his hidden plans for Orihime, and how will his scheme affect Soul Society and the human world? Dark AiHime fic. Completed August 2012.

I update my profile regularly, so if you are interested in sequels to this story or links to uncensored content, please check out my profile at [FFnet]/~sariniste.

**Note (June 2012):** This story has been edited to make sure it remains within FFnet's content guidelines. Let me know if you wish to read the original unedited content, which will be posted on another site.

Thanks to the talented **Child of the Ashes** for allowing me to use the beautiful AiHime fanart she drew for me as the cover for this story. To view the full version, please go to child-of-the-ashes. deviantart dot com/gallery/#/d4zu0h6 (please remove the spaces for the link).

**Warnings:** Dark. Violence; coercion; deceit; suggestive content. Trying to get inside Aizen's mind can be a bit scary.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. All characters in this story are 18 years old or older.

* * *

The Lord of Las Noches relaxed upon his throne, gazing out at the endless deserts of the night. With satisfaction, he contemplated his conversation with the girl, how he had held her eyes with his own. He had restrained his spiritual pressure, but approached closely enough so that he knew she could smell him, near enough that his physical presence would almost, but not quite, overwhelm her.

He had seen fear in her eyes, trembling, loneliness, confusion… and something else. Something that perhaps even she didn't yet realize. She was drawn to him against her will. He knew she found him, somehow, attractive. It didn't matter that she loved another; he was not here, and Aizen was.

He knew, of course, of the effect his beauty and personal magnetism had on others. Although he had hidden it behind thick glasses for a hundred years, he had constantly been aware of it, had noticed (although he had pretended not to) the sidelong glimpses, the sighs from lovestruck students, the not-so-innocuous touches and disingenuous pleas. But it had become tiresome, after a while, to always have to pretend to be so clueless, so innocent, so _nice_.

Now, at last, he was free of the rules and strictures of Soul Society and liberated from the requirements of the image of his own creation. It had been amusing to indulge in his power and beauty upon arrival in Las Noches. Here, he was the center of all things, and with that position came the opportunity to take advantage of the many beings, both male and female, who were more than willing to compete for his attention and beg to give him whatever pleasure he desired. It had been… heady… to finally be able to sample freely from those who appealed to him, on a moment's notice, on a whim. He had been able to indulge in some delicious experimentation as well, unfettered by the need of having to even appear to conform to laws or morality.

But after a while it became boring. It was too repetitive, too easy. Some of his toys became clingy and demanding, like that foolish girl Loly Avirrne. He had considered idly that it might be an entertaining experiment to destroy her as she climaxed during sex; he had never done that with a partner and wondered if it might add spice to his sexual experience. But it would be a waste of good material; each of the Arrancar represented a substantial amount of his time and energy, and he hated to waste his own work. Instead he found he had to put up with the annoyance of her constant stalking.

He sighed. Absolute power wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The mindless pursuit of pleasure had never held that much appeal for him anyway; he preferred more complex diversions, and had always chosen intellectual challenges over physical ones.

The human girl intrigued him because of her powers. Her innocence and youth were delightful, of course, but those alone would not have been enough to pique his interest. He had always found experience far more entertaining than innocence. But he had never encountered someone of her ability before. A power that trespassed on that of the gods? How fitting in a companion for one who would become a god. And the complexities of training a new talent were far more engrossing than the mere aesthetic appeal of physical features.

Kidnapping her had been an appealing prospect; he had never kidnapped anyone before, and the idea held the thrill of novelty. Plus, there were all the convoluted effects her presence in Hueco Mundo would set in motion. He had considered the plan from many angles. Her captivity would serve many useful purposes in his war against Soul Society as well as achieving several other goals of his. It had the benefit of being a fruitful branch of his strategy tree, as well as an interesting personal challenge.

Yes. Seducing her to his will, turning her mind against her friends, against her own ethics, weaving her deep within his spell, without even the use of his zanpakutou… bringing a beautiful girl with astonishing power under his control, making her willingly choose to belong to him body and soul, making her… _love_ him… now that was a challenge worthy of a god.

Aizen smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Challenge – Chap. 2**

**by Sariniste**

**A/N:** Thanks for all the requests to continue this story! I was inspired to write another dark chapter by your reviews and (spoiler alert for episode 293) watching Aizen attack everyone and then stand there calmly with his back turned and that low, evil laugh deep in his throat *shiver*.

**Warnings: **Threats of violence, compulsion, angst.

* * *

The two Arrancar scurried in through the doors at the far end of the throne room and prostrated themselves before him. Languidly, Aizen leaned his elbow on the armrest of his throne and gazed thoughtfully down at them, his eyes lidded in contemplation. With a flicker of inner amusement, he sensed the nervous spikes of fear in their reiatsu, and allowed their tension to build for a long moment.

Finally, he said in his rich, deep voice, "Loly. Menoly. You may rise."

As they stood and gazed up at him, terror and adoration warring in their faces, he said, "I have a task for you. You are to outfit the Lady Orihime in an Arrancar uniform in her size and make sure she has everything she needs for her comfort. Then you are to inform her that she is invited to have dinner with me in my quarters tonight at 1800 hours. Finally, you are to advise the kitchens to have a special meal prepared for us; you are then to escort Orihime to my rooms this evening, where you will serve the meal to us on my private balcony."

He watched, engrossed by the progression of expressions across Loly's face as he issued these instructions. Outrage, jealousy, abject fear, and fury chased themselves in turn across her mobile face as her black pigtails quivered. "But, Lord Aizen—" she bit out, her visible eye filled with anger and pain.

Aizen raised his reiatsu level slightly, just enough to cause both girls' legs to buckle so that they fell to their knees again. He said calmly, "Haven't I taught you that I don't like having my orders questioned? Is there anything I said that was unclear?"

The girls quailed under his gaze. "No, sir," the two chorused.

"Then go and carry out my orders." His voice remained quiet.

The two terrified girls bowed once more and retreated to the exit. Just as they reached the door, Aizen said softly, "Oh, and Loly. One more thing." She turned back, her chest heaving and shaking. She angrily wiped at the eye not covered with the hollow mask with the back of her right hand and looked up at her master.

In a moment, he had shunpoed to her side with blinding speed. She gasped at his sudden nearness. He smiled at her and very gently raised a long-fingered hand to her right cheek, trailing his fingertips through the tears on her face. She stared at him, wide-eyed and trembling, as he tenderly stroked the side of her face and ran his fingers delicately over her throat. Her breath hitched at his touch.

"You know I have surveillance cameras throughout Las Noches," he said in a kindly, conversational tone, the tone he used to employ as a taichou comforting a subordinate back in Soul Society. "If I should see the least hint of antagonism toward the Lady Orihime, anything other than the utmost kindness toward our guest?" He paused, and although he did not raise his voice, it turned icy as an arctic winter. "I will have you tortured to death, slowly. Do you understand?"

With a gasp, she bowed her head and fell to one knee. "Y-yes, Lord Aizen," she whispered, shaking.

"Good." He turned away, back toward his throne, indifferent once again. "I'm glad you understand."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Challenge – Chap. 3**

**A/N: **A much longer chapter. The first half is from Orihime's point of view, the second half from Aizen's.

* * *

Orihime stood quietly and allowed the two female Arrancar to drape the heavy white uniform around her and button the inner garment. They had refused to allow her to dress herself, insisting with voices chiming in unison that they were to serve her. At least the thick fabric was much warmer than her skimpy school outfit and more suitable for the cold air in Las Noches. The two girls were painfully polite, but she could sense raging anger in their reiatsu and was confused. What had she ever done to them? It made her feel off-balance. She was a prisoner here, and helpless. But the two, especially the black-haired girl, Loly, were filled with rage and… fear. She didn't understand.

She had been told she was "invited" to have dinner with Lord Aizen, and she understood that it was not really an invitation but a summons. It confused her. What did the powerful shinigami really want with her, a human? He had said those strange things about her power yesterday, "even better than temporal regression, the rejection of events," but she wasn't really that strong. She was useless in battle, a weak opponent. Surely he was not interested in the weak?

The girls brought her through what felt like miles of long, white corridors, high-ceilinged, with wall sconces mounted at regular intervals. They were all alike, and Loly and Menoly took her through so many twists and turns that she was thoroughly lost by the time she arrived at a corridor that looked much like the others, except that it was wider and grander. She was brought to two huge double doors with brass fixtures. Menoly signaled by some means she could not see, and the doors swung open ponderously. Behind them lay a large antechamber with a white marble tile floor, lined with oversized carved wooden antique chairs upholstered in white satin. More wall sconces glowed at both sides of the room, but the light they cast was a warmer, yellowish tone.

The two Arrancar ushered her in through the antechamber to a vast, high-ceilinged sitting room beyond. Here a single huge Oriental carpet lay in the exact center of the room. At the far end, seated on a divan, was the Lord of Las Noches.

The two girls each dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. Hurriedly, Orihime hastened to copy their actions.

"You may rise." She heard a note of warm amusement in his deep voice, and slowly got up. She saw that he had risen and had approached the three of them. She raised her eyes to look directly into Aizen's deep brown ones. To her surprise, his expression was kindly and welcoming. He held out a hand to her.

"Come, my dear." Hesitantly, she took his hand. It was warm, and he clasped it over her fingers securely and comfortingly. "Let's get acquainted for a while before dinner is served, shall we?" He raised his eyebrows at Loly and Menoly and they bowed their heads before scurrying out of the room.

He led her to the divan and settled her against one of the cushions before taking a seat himself beside her. There was a long, low white marble table in front of the couch. Upon it was placed an intricately wrought silver tray that held two decanters, one with red wine, and one water. An oval serving platter stacked with delicate canapés drew Orihime's attention. She was hungry. Aizen saw her looking and smiled. "Please," he said. "Help yourself."

She picked up a flaky pastry dotted with what looked like red pepper and stripes of mustard and popped it in her mouth. It was delicious, warm and almost melted in her mouth. She sighed without realizing it, and relaxed ever so slightly as the warm pastry reached her stomach. Aizen, watching her carefully, gave her another kindly smile. He handed her a wine glass full of ruby-colored liquid, and said, "How about a toast… to your new life among us here in Las Noches." He raised his own glass.

Orihime hesitated. She didn't want to be impolite, but she gathered her resolve to speak. "Um, I don't drink wine, because I'm not 21. I'm – I'm only 18," she said diffidently.

Aizen raised his eyebrows. "My dear Orihime, you are no longer a child. For the vast majority of human history, passage to womanhood was defined to occur at the onset of menarche." His eyes traveled over her well-developed body. At her blush, he continued, "It's merely an anomaly that current human laws set the definition of adulthood unusually late. In any event, the strictures of the world of the living no longer apply to you." He narrowed his eyes and looked speculatively at her. "You should enjoy life here to the fullest, as I have learned to since I arrived here."

When she continued to hesitate, he gently took the glass from her hand, brushing her fingers again as he did so, and poured water into it, creating a paler red mixture. "Very well; you can do as many cultures in the world of the living do, and water their wine." He handed her the glass. "There. Now it's perfectly acceptable for you to drink it. Half wine, half water. Come now. A toast: to the woman whose power trespasses into God's territory." He smiled at her over the rim of his glass, his eyes now dark and compelling.

Obediently, she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. It was not too strong, but she felt the liquid warming her deep inside, burning away the last of the cold of Las Noches. Aizen was watching her with that small smile on his lips, a smile with a hint of darkness that made her shiver. He was pushing her to violate her own limits, she knew, undoubtedly for his own purposes. It made her uncomfortable. How far could she defy him? But more importantly, why was he so interested in her?

She knew he was evil, had witnessed him casually order Rukia's death merely because she was no longer useful to him. His interest in her frightened her. What was his intent? What did he plan on making her do? And, would he order her killed when he lost interest?

He took her hand again, gently. "Orihime," he said in a caressing voice, "do not fear me. You are far more valuable to me than Rukia ever was." She gasped. Could he read her mind?

"No, I am not reading your mind," he replied with a low chuckle. He reached out with his slender hand and touched her cheek gently. "Only your face." He continued, his voice dropping nearly to a whisper, "Such a beautiful, expressive face. So unappreciated. That foolish boy, not seeing the value of what he has in front of him…"

She turned away, her face burning. How could he know her innermost thoughts?

"How many times have you had to watch from the sidelines while he fawns over that shinigami woman? Has he ever once expressed an interest in you?"

Her face was on fire, Aizen's words blazing into her soul, as she refused to meet his eyes. "Yes, I know he was the one person you selected to say goodbye to in the world of the living… choosing him over your own best friend… but is he worthy of your devotion? Or has he chosen another?" Orihime's head whirled as his words pierced her heart. He moved closer to her on the couch, both her hands captured by his now. She could feel his body heat, the banked inferno of his reiatsu. He had reined in his spiritual pressure, but this close, she could feel tendrils of it intertwining with hers, curling around her body. It almost seemed to be vibrating against her skin, insinuating itself underneath her clothes, making every inch of her body tingle and vibrate in sympathy… was he doing this on purpose?

She looked up at him and wished she hadn't. This close, he was even more beautiful, his large, liquid-center brown eyes focused on hers, his faintly woodsy scent more pronounced, reminding her of a wild, dark forest at nighttime, feral, full of mystery, power, and danger. She sucked in her breath unevenly. She felt like she was drowning in his reiatsu, going under in a whirlpool of energy fueled by her own treacherous desires. Her chest heaved.

Aizen delicately slid one hand up the back of her neck and threaded his fingers into her hair. Then he leaned in closer and she realized with panic that he was going to kiss her. She froze, unable to decide what to do. She should push him away, but could she really refuse him? She was a prisoner here. Then his lips touched hers. They were soft and warm and tasted faintly of wine. A tingling began at her lips but spread with a rush throughout her body, making her feel boneless. His lips caressed hers gently.

She had never been kissed before, had always imagined that someday she and Ichigo would kiss, but she was unprepared for the intensity of this experience. In response to his touch, she felt her own reiatsu rise higher than it had ever gone before, swirling to meet his, which also rose, a vibrating storm of power, spiraling higher on the tide of her escalating energy. It was as though the world had narrowed to the touch between the two of them, as though an immense amount of energy was being channeled into the single physical contact. It was strange… strange and confusing and heady. She suddenly realized she did not want it to stop.

He finally pulled away and looked at her from inches away, an expression of awe on his face. "This is what happens when gods kiss," he whispered. "Orihime, you are a fitting partner for me… you and no one else."

Orihime stared at him, her heart racing. She did not want to have any feelings for this man, for he was evil, heartless and selfish… she knew he could not possibly care for her… he must surely be lying.

And yet… a part of her wished with all her might that what he was saying was true.

XxXxXxX

Aizen leaned back from the kiss and studied Orihime, even as he continued playing his part with none of his inner thoughts showing on his face. He could see she was confused and weakening already. His initial analysis of her personality had been correct. She was one of those who had not received enough love as a child, and as a result was desperate for attention and affection. He could tell she tried to hide it with that light-hearted, ditzy mask, but underneath she was starving. By stroking her ego, insisting that her powers rivaled that of a god, he was playing right into her insecurities.

That had always been his gift, the ability to almost instantly grasp the essential nature of an individual's personality, to unerringly locate their weak areas, the direct paths to control of their soul. He couldn't remember when he hadn't been able to effortlessly manipulate most people's emotions, ambitions, and fears. Orihime Inoue was as easy for him to read as anyone else.

He knew she would conclude he wanted her for her power and her body and nothing else. But in reality… he had many other plans. He needed an agent in the human world. He could see that Orihime was intelligent enough to serve his purposes, if he could numb her conscience and essential compassion sufficiently to convince her to carry out his orders. He wanted her mind in his service as well. To do that, he had to make sure she believed that all parts of her – her mind, body, and soul – belonged to him utterly.

It would not do to use her in the same way he had used Hinamori. That had been only a partially successful experiment. The young shinigami had adored him, and he had been curious to see how far he could exploit her adoration without actually seducing her. She had clearly been desperate for him to notice her romantically; by showing her kindness, allowing her to get close to him, even visit him in his bedroom, all without a hint of romantic or sexual interest, he had fanned the flames of her desire and kept her just on the near edge of emotional collapse. She had been hopelessly drawn to him but constantly frustrated by his kindly, fatherly attitude toward her; a perfect state for keeping someone both sensitive to his whims and utterly obedient. He had been curious to see how effectively he could make use of her to carry out murder simply by relying on emotional driving factors.

Although the experiment had failed, it had yielded valuable knowledge. Pure, irrational emotion had its place, and was an extremely effective tool in the heat of battle; for example, to induce his opponents to take foolish risks due to their hatred of him. However, it was inconsistent, and could be at least partially derailed by reasoned arguments. Hinamori had failed at the tasks he had driven her to with his manipulations, in part because it went against her own nature and in part because her friends were able to bring her back to rationality. As a long-term method of control, he preferred more effectual means to secure his subordinates' loyalty. With Orihime, he would use a different technique.

For one thing, he had already decided to take her to bed. He found her physically more attractive than Hinamori, whose body type was still almost that of a child. He had never desired to bed a child. With Orihime, he suspected that waking her womanly passions would cement her loyalty to him. He needed her to be able to think rationally and clearly in the position he would place her in, to make reasoned decisions based on his own best interest.

It was unlikely that his original plan to make the Royal Key would fail. However, he had not gotten where he was by failing to make contingency plans. In the event that he was defeated by the Soul Society, his agents there would still serve him. But the rise of power of the Kurosaki boy made it clear that a new center of influence had developed in the human world. Urahara was interested in him as well. The girl was perfectly placed to be in the center of things. Her innocence and obvious compassion would make her extremely unlikely to be suspected of being his agent.

And as he had already observed, she was very easy to underestimate. He doubted that any of the humans or shinigami knew of the potential for ferocious inner passion and bravery she had evinced during her abduction. They had seen her often falter visibly in her resolve, but Aizen knew the change the Hougyoku had made in her demonstrated the power of her will. He had deduced that it was likely she would never manifest her resolve for herself, but only in service of another. If he could focus that passion and resolve on himself, in service of his will, she could become an extremely effective tool, a concealed and deadly weapon. He already had several ideas of how she could use her unique abilities to further his goals. He saw that she could become, in effect, an additional key to the spirit dimension.

A chime rang, indicating that dinner was ready. He rose and graciously offered his arm to Orihime, playing the part of an attentive gentleman with the ease of a century of practice. As she took it hesitantly, he gently caressed her body with reiatsu again. Having never had a lover who could manipulate spirit energy, she was unlikely to be aware of the effects it would have on her libido. It was even possible that he could seduce her tonight, if all went well.

That would advance his plans ahead of schedule. He knew that underneath, she was afraid that a physical conquest was all he was after, that he did not really care about her personally. By following an evening of lovemaking with gentle attentiveness and continued ego-stroking, he would undermine that fear and ensure that she fell for him completely. Plus, he was quite familiar with making use of the delightful guilt most virgins felt after they had succumbed to his blandishments. It could easily be twisted to his own purposes.

They walked out to the spacious balcony overlooking the desert of Hueco Mundo. As always, the crescent moon hung in the velvet sky against a blaze of stars. The white sands of the desert were silent and still, but a slight breeze brought the scent of creosote from the desert floor far below.

A single table set for two stood in the middle of the balcony, draped with an elegant white linen tablecloth. Two tall candles had been lit at its center. He held one of the chairs for Orihime to seat herself, then slid it in smoothly. He could tell from her awkwardness that she had rarely, if ever, received even this small courtesy. He could feel her trembling as his hands brushed her skin. He felt a delicious tremor of anticipation in response.

She was already half under his spell. He could see it was going to be a very pleasurable evening.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Challenge – Chap. 4**

**by Sariniste**

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for your detailed reviews and great response to this story!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. All characters in this story are 18 years or older.

(Originally posted 10/25/2010; edited 7/22/2011.)

* * *

"Why doesn't the wind blow the candles out?" Orihime asked in a puzzled voice. They were finishing dinner on the wide balcony open to the night sky of Hueco Mundo. There was a faint breeze, but the candle flames were straight, thin vertical ribbons, untouched by a single ripple or flicker.

"Hmmm?" asked Aizen, slightly distracted, as he savored the last few bites of the very delicious meal. The food was always excellent. His chefs put a great deal of effort into preparing his meals. Perhaps they suspected what might happen to them if they did not. "Oh." He smiled at the auburn-haired girl. "It's kidou. Magic. One places a spell around each flame that immobilizes a cylinder of air in place, as though they were in a glass that protects them from the breeze. Here." He took her hand and gently brought it close to the candle flame so she could touch the slick barrier of frozen air molecules.

"You should be able to sense the workings of the spell too," he added. "Can you detect the reiatsu holding it in place?"

She closed her eyes, and after a moment, nodded.

"You could perform a spell like that," he told her. "It's not too hard."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I don't think my power is like that."

"Nonsense. You have sufficient spiritual pressure, and all kidou is a manipulation of spiritual energy. I know you materialize your power as your Shun Shun Rikka, but that is only a focus for your more advanced abilities, the way a zanpakutou is for shinigami. The basic spells require only simple direction of the energies." He smiled at her. "I could teach you, if you like."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh!" she said. "You don't have to do that."

"Orihime," he said in his rich voice, "you need to stop thinking you're not worthwhile." He stroked her hand again. "You are worthy." She blushed again. He bent a kindly gaze on her with just a hint of heat in his eyes, inwardly calculating the effect his attentions during dinner would have had on her by now.

Throughout the meal he had been subtly caressing her with his reiatsu. Not only was his innate level of spiritual pressure extraordinarily high, he also had very fine-grained control of the energies, something that was often neglected at the Shinigami Academy with their emphasis on raw power and strength. It was a mistake, he believed, and he taught all his students fine control in addition to the development of strength and high reiatsu density. It was evidence of the superiority of his technique that it had been well-known throughout Soul Society that the fifth division was the place to be assigned if you wanted to advance your career.

The same subtlety used while holding a calligraphy brush could also be used in the handling of reiatsu; indeed, that was one of the lessons he used to teach as an instructor in the academy, and one of the reasons his calligraphy classes were so popular. His demonstrations that fine control could lead to strength and power always drew a crowd, with students sitting on the floor and clustering outside the door.

He used that fine control now for a different purpose, sending many tendrils of energy running over her skin, touching her deep within her core with a vibrating pressure that undoubtedly was sending her hormones raging. He could see it in her blushes, in the way her body had relaxed and opened during dinner, how she licked her lips unconsciously, how she tried to avoid his gaze but failed. The food and wine had relaxed her as well, all the tension of the day's events draining out of her, leaving her slightly sleepy. The reiatsu he sent through her body counteracted the sleepiness, exciting her just enough to keep her alert, while the food and wine took the edge off her tension. It was a careful balance that he needed to maintain, and he did it with the ease of long practice, keeping the strands of energy just out of reach of her clumsy seeking, so that she would not notice what he was doing. Of course, anyone with more experience would have realized what was going on, but he calculated that no one had told her of the possibility of this more subtle manipulation of power.

In addition, whenever he brushed against her with his hand, he enhanced the physical touch with reiatsu, so that it would feel like an electric tingle that started at the point of his touch and spread throughout her body. It was a devastatingly effective procedure even when his partner knew what he was doing. Orihime was doubtless completely confused, questioning her own motivations and desires by now, aware only of how she was reacting to his presence.

To her credit, she was maintaining her composure, making intelligent conversation even as he carried out his subliminal seduction.

"It's always night out here, but daylight inside the palace?" she asked now.

"Yes." He put down his fork. "Why don't I show you?" he said softly. "It's much more interesting that way." He pushed back his chair and stood up gracefully, holding a hand out to her. Somewhat puzzled, she took his hand.

With a smile, he enfolded her in his arms. She gasped as they began to levitate, rising into the night sky, slowly at first, then with more speed. The wind blew her hair away from her face. She looked down below her dangling feet as the buildings receded and they ascended into the cloudless, starry sky. She sighed as his arms tightened around her, and she gradually relaxed in his embrace. He stroked her hair gently, and then, as they continued to ascend, he turned her face to his and kissed her again. He could feel her tense slightly at his kiss, and eased his reiatsu further into her body, relaxing her muscles; then he released her and brushed his lips into her hair.

By now she would be convinced that she was attracted to him, and would be frantically trying to understand why, and perhaps even coming up with justifications for her attraction. She would be telling herself that he was beautiful, powerful, fascinating, and perhaps not as evil as she had been led to believe… and she would be frightened. He smirked into her hair. He would use her fear and her misperception to his advantage.

They were now at the top of one of the citadel towers, and Aizen let them down gently onto the roof. From over the balustrade they had an excellent view of the vast dome of Las Noches, set in the heart of an endless desert that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Aizen pointed out the mechanism that moved the artificial sun within the dome and explained a number of other distinctive features of Las Noches in his kindly professor persona. He kept his arm around her as he spoke; it was cold up here on the exposed roof of the tower. He also noted with satisfaction that Orihime looked around at the immeasurable desert sands surrounding the palace, and an expression of despair slipped across her face. She could see there would be no escape for her.

Aizen smiled and bent to kiss her again, this time deepening the kiss. She resisted, and he drew back and looked at her distraught face. "What's wrong?" he said softly, allowing a trace of hurt to enter his voice. "I – I find myself completely taken by you," he said hesitantly, "and I'm not used to that. But I don't want to do anything you're not ready for." He gazed into her eyes sincerely. "I thought you might be feeling some of the same things I'm feeling. Was I wrong?"

She dropped her eyes. Her thoughts and emotions were in a storm. What should she do now? She was a prisoner, and she had agreed to cooperate in return for her friends' lives. But how far did cooperation go? Allowing Aizen to kiss her was bad enough; the worst part was those odd feelings she had in her core, hot and strange feelings that were different than she had ever felt before, even for Ichigo. How could she be feeling like this about the man who had kidnapped her, who had ordered countless deaths, who was planning to destroy Soul Society… the man who had nearly killed Ichigo right in front of her eyes? But she could not deny the truth of her feelings.

"No…" she whispered. "No, I feel something for you too." As she said it, guilt washed through her. How could she feel this… attraction… to this evil man? Was there something wrong with her? Perhaps it was just genetics; after all, her mother had been a whore. And now she was letting her physical desires overpower her good sense and ethics. But it was all so confusing. If she resisted, what would Aizen do to her friends?

And, was it possible that Aizen was telling the truth? Everything he said had the ring of utter veracity. If he truly believed what he said, and was developing feelings for her… would it be possible that she might have an influence on him, might be able to help put a stop to the bloodshed?

He tightened his arms around her in response to her words and there was gladness in his eyes. She felt a twinge in her heart; he was showing his vulnerability to her as he likely did to no one else. How could she hurt him by rejecting him?

"But," she continued, "I've never done anything like this before…" Her voice lowered until it was barely a whisper. "I'm not sure if it's right."

Aizen held her close and stroked her gently. "I won't do anything if you don't think it's right," he promised. "All that matters to me is that you share my feelings. Don't you realize how dangerous it is for me to care for anyone? I am surrounded by enemies who seek to destroy me. I have no friends in Las Noches, only subordinates who would like nothing more than to topple me and take my throne." He stopped and held her at arms' length. "I am so lonely here, Orihime. You don't know… how I need an ally, a companion."

She looked up at him, eyes filled with anguish. He had to be telling the truth. She could see his loneliness in his eyes; and everything he said made sense. Betraying the people he had lived among all his life, coming to this strange place in the lifeless desert, being surrounded by soulless hollows… whom could he truly count on as a friend? But surely he was mistaken in thinking she could be fit for such a position… although it was obviously flattering for someone as powerful as him to take an interest in someone like her.

She shook her head. "What makes you think I could be your companion? I'm … nobody."

"No!" he said firmly, gripping her almost painfully. "Didn't you listen when I told you about your powers? You have the potential to be a god, Orihime."

She shook her head from side to side and looked away. That was ridiculous. She was just Orihime, the impoverished orphan girl of Karakura, who always made sure to keep up a cheerful face so that others wouldn't feel sorry for her. A girl born of parents who were less than worthless, the lowest of the low. Someone no one ever expected much of.

No one had ever believed in her, had ever said she would amount to anything in life. And here this man, her enemy, her friends' enemy… was saying that she could be a _god_? It was unreal, beyond belief. Of course, it seemed like nothing in her life was believable any more, ever since the strange events surrounding Kurosaki Ichigo had swept her up in the maelstrom. And it was true that her powers and their development still shocked and amazed her. Aizen had been right when he said they were miraculous. If he were telling the truth now, did it mean that she could finally become something more than worthless? Could she actually make a difference in the world?

"Orihime. I can teach you to develop your powers fully. And when you do, you can take your place at my side." He paused, studying her downturned face. "Please, Orihime," he said softly. "I need you."

She gradually turned her face upwards and looked directly into his eyes, an agonized expression on her face. This powerful man— no, shinigami— needed her. He was lowering himself to ask for her help. And she had never refused to help anyone before.

"Please believe me, Orihime," he whispered. His deep brown eyes were full of sincerity. She looked at him, torn. His eyes were so beautiful, and when they looked at her that way they did odd things to her deep inside. If he made her feel this way, it couldn't be so wrong, could it? And he needed her. He said he needed her. It had always been hard for her to resist a request for help, and now he was inciting her compassion. She sighed slightly, and then lowered her eyes. It was a sign of submission.

After all, she thought to herself, she had already agreed to submit to him. What was one thing more, giving her body to him? And it was nothing, nothing compared to the sacrifices her friends were making. They were risking their lives. Giving up her virginity was paltry in comparison. It was only her body.

And… she had to admit she was overwhelmingly attracted to this man with the body and power of a god, yet who spoke so gently to her. Judging by her own body's reactions, her hormones had clearly already made their decision.

He kissed her again, this time gently sliding his tongue between her lips. She did not resist, and he felt her shiver as he spun his reiatsu into her mouth. He unfastened the collar of her outfit and tenderly caressed her throat with his fingertips, sliding them down into the valley between her breasts. She gasped as his touch ignited fireworks within her body. Her mind was so overwhelmed with sensation that she could no longer think clearly.

She shivered as the cold breeze touched her skin. Aizen immediately stopped with a concerned look on his face. "Come," he said quietly. "Let's go someplace warmer."

They lifted off the roof as he carried her up into the starblaze one more time, flying into the sky in a dramatic parabolic arc that left all of Las Noches far beneath them. This time she did not stiffen when he kissed her at the peak of the arc; within a moment, they had turned to descend; with a swiftness that made her gasp, he swept her in through an open window into a large and elegant bedroom.

XxXxXxX

Aizen approached lovemaking the way he did any other important task in his life, applying the same perfectionistic tendencies to each nuance of the procedure. His lovers often found that no other partner, afterwards, could compare to him. It was not only his physical beauty and the perfection of his body. No one else had his sensitivity in lovemaking, his profound understanding of the human body and mind, his ability to give pleasure to an almost unbearable degree. It was whispered that making love with Aizen even once ruined you for anyone else. And it was rare that he took anyone to bed more than a few times… the downside of love with Aizen was that he became bored easily, and when bored, could be lethal. It was playing with fire to go to bed with him. His attention could be deadly.

Orihime did not know any of the rumors whispered about Aizen in the corridors of Las Noches. But she too sensed that he was lethal, dangerous… however, she was too far under his spell for that to mean anything other than a further spice to the encounter. She lay in his bed in his arms, completely naked, and willingly allowed him to do everything he wanted. She had never experienced such delight, such wonder. She realized that even if he did not love her, the experience of making love with him was so amazing that it was worth it for the physical pleasure alone. She was surprised to find that she thought that, for it went against everything she had believed, all her romantic notions of finding a soul mate. But then she stopped thinking and simply gave in to the pure and intense sensations.

Aizen closed his eyes as his reiatsu fountained around them both. He smiled inwardly, knowing the effect he was having on her. Poor Ichigo, he thought, even if she goes to him now, she will always compare him to me… and find him lacking… he'll never have a chance. She is mine now. She'll belong to me forever.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Challenge – Chap. 5**

**by Sariniste**

* * *

Orihime opened her eyes suddenly. She was lying on a soft bed between fine white cotton sheets underneath a dark red comforter, in a large, elegant, high-ceilinged room with arched windows on four sides. Heavy maroon damask curtains were drawn on two of the windows, but the other two were open and early morning sun was streaming in across the tiled marble floor strewn with silk area rugs.

Her body flooded with despair and shame as she remembered the night before. She could not believe that she had willingly gone to bed with her kidnapper, the murderer and traitor to Soul Society, the enemy of her friends. She had always intended to save herself for Ichigo. Tears began to slip down her cheeks as she berated herself harshly, telling herself she was no better than her mother.

Then a warm arm draped itself over her body and turned her around. She came face to face with Aizen, his warm brown eyes, tousled brown hair with a single curl falling in his face, a soft smile on his lips, and to her dismay she felt heat in her loins at the sight of his handsome face. She closed her eyes and wept.

"Orihime," he said gently. "Orihime. Look at me."

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. His face was full of concern. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly. "Did I do anything to displease you?" There was a note of confusion and hurt in his voice that tore at her heart.

"No…" she whispered. "It's just…" She broke off, unable to speak.

"I thought… you were happy last night… you were enjoying yourself," he said in a low voice. There was pain, sadness, and just a hint of disappointment and anger in his eyes. "Did I do anything to hurt you?"

"No," she said again. In a rush she realized that she was being selfish, that she had not considered the effect her crying would have on his emotions. She felt a wave of compassion for him and reached out with both arms to take him into an embrace. He stiffened at her touch and she felt renewed sadness and guilt at her own lack of sensitivity. "I'm sorry…" she said. "I had a wonderful night with you… but it's just that it was my first time, and it was… unexpected."

He pulled away and looked at her, a look of raw vulnerability on his face. "I thought— that perhaps you shared my feelings, Orihime. Was I wrong?"

"No," she said for a third time. "I do have feelings for you… I'm sorry if I made you think I didn't. I really enjoyed our time together," she said, trying to comfort him, and was pleased to see a spark of gladness appear in his eyes.

He took her in his arms. "Orihime. My princess, my goddess," he murmured into her hair. "I couldn't bear it if you didn't return my feelings, Orihime."

Her heart fluttered in confusion and guilt. She had thought he was cold, unfeeling… yet he could surely not be lying now? He would have to be a marvelous actor, if so. It must be true that he had feelings for her… and if it was true, then perhaps it was all right to give in to her own attraction to the man. She could not say she loved him, but she was clearly attracted to him, and she could not deny his attention was flattering. She sighed. She didn't know anymore what to do or feel.

Just then there was a knock on the door. With a little squeal, Orihime slid down in the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. But Aizen sat up so the covers fell off of him, exposing his chest. "Come in," he called.

It was Loly and Menoly, carrying heavily laden breakfast trays. Menoly set hers on Orihime's side of the bed without a word, turning to go immediately. But Loly had stopped, her gaze on Aizen, looking stricken. His gaze was locked on hers, a slight smile on his face. "Thank you, Loly," he said gently. "Please put the tray down." Aizen trailed his fingers idly through Orihime's hair as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Loly's face.

As though released from a compulsion, she moved forward and set the tray awkwardly on the bed, then turned to go. As she had almost reached the door, Aizen said, "Loly," and she froze.

"Yes, Aizen-sama?" she asked as she turned, her voice cracking. He smiled at her warmly as he continued to caress Orihime.

"Please inform the kitchens that I shall want a special meal for lunch today."

"At once, sir." She gave a clumsy curtsey and blundered out of the room. Menoly followed her with an expressionless look on her face.

Aizen turned back to Orihime with a slight heat in his eyes. He reached for her and kissed her, at first slowly, then with more passion. She closed her eyes and let her world narrow to his kiss, returning it hesitantly. He made an appreciative noise deep in his throat and ran his hands through her hair, caressing the backs of her ears with his fingertips and making her shiver.

Abruptly, a chime sounded in the room, repeating three times. A look of annoyance crossed Aizen's face as he pulled back from Orihime. He rolled over and picked up a small device on the bedside table.

"Yes?" he inquired tersely, then listened. His brows drew together slightly and he gave a sidelong glance at Orihime. "Very well. On my way."

He put down the device and smiled with apology at Orihime. "I'm terribly sorry, but my presence is required on an urgent matter. I hope you'll forgive me." He drew her to him and kissed her again one last time, his tongue lingering inside her mouth, pressing his body against hers until she could feel his warmth up and down her entire body. She felt herself trembling under his touch.

He gave her a long look of deep regret, then slid off the bed and wrapped himself in a dark red silk robe. "Please enjoy your breakfast. The bathroom is one level up the stairs. I'll send Ulquiorra later to escort you back to your rooms." Then he was gone.

Orihime sat up in the large bed in the sunlit room which suddenly felt cold and empty, as though it had been only his presence which had infused it with life and warmth. Her clothes, including the new Arrancar uniform, were folded in a neat pile on a mahogany Chippendale chair beside the window. She put them on slowly, trying to come to terms with the confusion she felt, the mingled excitement and despair at her situation.

She did not want to love Aizen. Her heart already belonged to Ichigo. But her mind kept returning to his soft, deep voice, his passionate touch, the warmth of his body… and especially, the words he said. Were they truth or lies? She didn't know what to believe. But… she wanted to believe.

There was a tap on the door. Orihime called out, "Come in," and Ulquiorra entered.

He stood at the doorway, expressionless, hands in his pockets. "Come with me," he ordered, and turned to go. She followed him down the marble spiral staircase that led from the tower room to Aizen's private apartments, and then out into the high white corridors that led, maze-like, back to her room.

XxXxXxX

She remained alone in her room all that morning and afternoon with no further word from Aizen. At first, she worried about what she would do the next time he summoned her, going over scenario after scenario in her head. Then, as the endless hours passed with no contact with anyone other than the anonymous Arrancar who brought her lunch on a tray, she started to first long for Aizen, then for any company at all, and finally, to feel angry at his neglect. How could he say all those things to her and then just leave her alone in her room? She turned to look out the window at the unchanging night sky. It was even hard to tell what time it was. Was it already evening? She was hungry again.

She suddenly became aware of a presence in the room again and spun around. Ulquiorra was standing at the door with his hands in his pockets as usual, observing her impassively.

"I have an announcement," he said. "Your friends have entered Hueco Mundo."

She gasped. "Why…?"

He looked at her with what could have been mild surprise. "Why, you ask? They came to rescue you."

She felt as though her heart were splitting in two, and another wave of guilt washed over her. "They came… to rescue me?" They would not have come, she thought as her cheeks flushed, if they had known she had already betrayed them, that she had already fallen for their enemy.

"Indeed. But for you that should no longer hold any meaning. For both in body and mind you are already one of us."

"One of you…?" she echoed mechanically, lowering her eyes and blushing again. He knew what she had done last night.

"That's what your wearing those clothes means, does it not?" he asked.

There was a silence, then she bowed her head and said obediently, "Yes, sir."

He approached her and looked straight into her eyes. "I want to hear you say it out loud. To whom do your body and mind belong?"

She was falling, falling down an endless cliff into despair and shadows… but there was a dark, secret warmth deep inside. "They belong to Aizen-sama, and are for his purpose and use," she whispered, and with those words felt something crack deep within her. She knew she had made her decision, and she bowed her head. There would be no going back.

XxXxXxX

Aizen reclined in the huge marble bathtub full of warm water, watching a screen showing the surveillance video of Orihime's room. Loly knelt naked in the tub beside him, massaging his feet. She kept her eyes averted from the image of Orihime on the screen.

Aizen narrowed his eyes with satisfaction when he heard her declare her loyalty to him. He smirked and ran his hand carelessly through Loly's unbound hair. "She's lovely, isn't she?" he mused, his eyes on Orihime's image. Loly shivered, then ran both hands up the insides of Aizen's thighs, sliding forward through the water with a seductive smile, until she was half-lying on him, gazing up at his face with an expression that was half defiant and half beseeching. Aizen chuckled. He took her head in both hands and brought her face close to his as though he were about to kiss her. She closed her eyes and her lips parted expectantly.

With a slight flick of his reiatsu, she was thrown up and out of the tub to smack unceremoniously on the tiled marble floor, her knees and elbows banging painfully on the hard surface. She pushed herself up to hands and knees and stared at him, gasping for breath.

His face was as hard as the marble surrounding them. "I have no further need of your services tonight, Loly," he said coldly. "You are dismissed."

She was panting, still on hands and knees, dripping, her eyes blazing with desperation and agony. Then she struggled to her feet and ran out of the room, scooping her clothes up with one hand. Indifferently, Aizen turned back to the video screen. He watched, chin resting in his hand, for a few moments. Then his eyes became calculating and his lips twitched upward into a small, pleased smirk.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Challenge – Chap. 6**

**by Sariniste**

* * *

The large, high-ceilinged room was dim and quiet as Ulquiorra entered. At the far end of the room, his lord was sitting in a large white chair with its back to the door. As Ulquiorra approached, Aizen swiveled in the throne-like chair to face him. Ulquiorra went down on one knee.

"It was done as you ordered, sir."

Aizen smiled. "I saw," he said. "Good job, Ulquiorra."

Ulquiorra rose, his face expressionless. "Thank you, sir."

"I'm curious. What did you think of her response?" Aizen inquired softly.

Ulquiorra appeared to be thinking it over. He paused, and then said, "I think she's a brave girl. She didn't flinch at my questions. She only hesitated for a moment."

Aizen raised an eyebrow. "Do you admire her courage, Ulquiorra?"

The Arrancar returned his gaze dispassionately. "I do not feel admiration or any other such emotion, Aizen-sama."

"Ah." Aizen's smile was serene. "That's good." He shifted in the chair, fixing his eyes on the pale Arrancar. "Continue on as you are, then. And as for tonight…have her brought to my chambers for dinner at 1900 hours," he ordered.

Ulquiorra bowed. "Yes, sir." He turned without a further word, and quietly slipped out through the heavy double doors.

Left behind in the large, echoing room, Aizen rested his elbow on the armrest, chin on his hand, and gazed off into the distance, pensive. There was movement in the shadows at the side of the room, and a thin shinigami with fine silver hair and slitted eyes stepped gracefully out from the darkness to regard his master with an enigmatic smile.

"What kinda twisted game are ya playin' with that girl?" he said in a half-amused, half-mocking tone.

Aizen turned to regard his subordinate with a neutral expression. "Gin. Were you spying again?"

"I'm jus' intrigued by what ya hope to gain from her." The slender man approached Aizen's throne and stopped several feet away. "She's only a human, after all. Though, obviously beautiful." His grin became slightly mischievous.

"Yes," Aizen said with a soft sigh. "She is beautiful. And her power is… exceptional."

"Do ya want her body or her powers?" queried Gin.

Aizen smiled. "Why should I not have both?"

Gin scrutinized his lord's expression. "Yer plannin' to use her friends' invasion against her in some way, aren't ya."

The brown-haired shinigami's lips twitched with amusement. "What makes you say that?"

"Yer enjoyin' this, aren't ya? Even though yer subordinates are bein' killed by these intruders."

"Is that how it appears?" Aizen inquired placidly.

"That's the kind of face yer makin'," Gin drawled. "This fightin' - it's jus' another game to ya, ain't it? Yer enjoyin' that those kids're winnin', and comin' closer to yer inner sanctum."

Aizen rose from his chair and turned to face the balcony, gazing out over the darkness beyond. In his mind's eye, he saw Ichigo's scowling face in the video screen as he tore down yet another opponent. "'Enjoying,'" he mused. "Yes, perhaps I feel an emotion akin to that, Gin." He turned his head to glance sidelong at the other shinigami. "Is that so strange?"

The other man's grin turned dark. "Not at all. Knowin' you've got somethin' planned makes me kinda… excited… too."

XxXxXxX

Aizen had dinner served to Orihime in a smaller, more intimate dining room that he only used occasionally. It held a small polished oak dining table for two with intricately carved legs. Beside the table was a maroon brocade loveseat so that the diners could sit side by side, facing a wide plate glass window offering a view of the endless Hueco Mundo desert beyond. Heavy maroon drapes were drawn back from the window by ornate sashes. The only other furniture in the room was a wide couch covered with silken fringed throws and many cushions embroidered with designs in maroon and ivory. The couch faced an old-fashioned stone fireplace in which a crackling fire was already lit.

Aizen stood to greet Orihime as Ulquiorra brought her to the door. Her eyes flicked over the furniture in the room and then fastened on Aizen's face. She seemed unable to look away from his eyes. Aizen gave her a gentlemanly bow and then took her hand and drew it to his lips, his eyes fixed on hers.

When they were alone, he seated her on the loveseat beside him and studied her covertly as he drew several of the covered silver serving dishes closer. He could feel her body trembling and her heart beating rapidly. When he "accidentally" brushed against her skin as he reached for a dish, he could see the blush deepen on her cheeks and hear the slight intake of breath. He hid a satisfied smile. It was as he had expected after his actions of the night before and this morning. She was powerfully physically attracted to him and, inexperienced as she was, she was convincing herself that he could not be as bad as she had previously believed. What he had seen on the video confirmed it. She had agreed to swear loyalty to him. At first, she had not been completely certain if she believed it, but speaking the words had helped cement her belief that it was true. By saying that she belonged to him, she was beginning to make his ownership reality.

The first part of his plan had fallen into place, the easy piece. He had seduced many women (and men) and was familiar with all the thoughts, emotions, and self-recriminations that were likely to surface. It was all rather repetitive, although undeniably pleasurable; however, he had long ago lost interest in that part of the process. It was merely a necessary step along the way to the more interesting challenges ahead. Tonight he would secure her physical and emotional loyalty to him, and then he would begin the next step: molding her mind and heart so she would be of use to him. He knew she was unusually compassionate and tender-hearted. He had decided that those were the first traits he would need to twist to his purposes, along with adjusting her sense of morality.

This more delicate operation was what he considered his specialty. Understanding the fundamentals of a person's character and determining what it would take to turn them into a perfectly shaped tool for his use required a different technique with each individual. For Tousen Kaname, it was taking his burning desire for justice and subtly guiding it into a rage for revenge against the Sereitei, and then slowly persuading him that only Aizen could satisfy that revenge, through a combination of logic, the restrained raising of emotions, and the judicious installation of fear and admiration. In the end Tousen had become blindly loyal (Aizen savored the irony), overlooking any injustice that Aizen himself committed, fanatically convinced that obedience to Aizen was the only path to accomplish Tousen's own goals.

This was Aizen's artistry. He sculpted souls. It was esthetically pleasing to him that Tousen's core personality remained untouched; it had merely been redirected to serve Aizen's will.

With Ichimaru Gin, a different method had been employed. Securing Tousen's loyalty had been a necessity due to his immunity to Kyouka Suigetsu, although he was not the raw material Aizen would have selected for use in his inner circle had he had a choice. On the other hand, Aizen had been fascinated by the deadly, brilliant child prodigy for some time. He was aware that Gin had spied on him earlier and had uncovered part of his secrets. Yet the youth had made no move to overtly betray him to the authorities, even after he had become a shinigami himself. Instead, he had deliberately sought to draw Aizen's attention to him. Aizen had been intrigued by the boy's schemes, and had covertly set up situations to allow Gin room to maneuver. Then he had recruited him, allowing Gin to think he had succeeded with his trap. He admired the youth's quicksilver brilliance and was charmed by his physical beauty, and above all, was captivated by the potential for disloyalty in one so close to him.

It was a supreme challenge to Aizen's artistry: to turn Gin into a useful tool and loyal subordinate who would serve his every wish for a hundred years while constantly believing that he was ready to turn on his superior. To do this Aizen had worked with Gin's core motivating emotion: his love for Rangiku. He allowed Rangiku to live, while persistently playing on Gin's jealousy and attraction to her, setting up situations that drew them closer to each other and then tore them apart. As an embellishment, he seduced Gin as well, taking pleasure in the young man's graceful body, and then using his bittersweet guilt over that relationship to further twist Gin to his will. In the end, Gin both loved and hated him, and Aizen played on his conflicting emotions to keep him always on the edge, a hair's breadth from the act of assassination.

In many ways, Gin was Aizen's most intricate accomplishment. It had been more than an amusing diversion during the long decades as he waited for his plot against Soul Society to come to fruition. It was extremely valuable to Aizen as well to have a powerful, amoral subordinate who might attempt to kill him at any moment; it kept him strong and focused, an absolute requirement for one who intended to strive unremittingly to reach higher levels of power.

Now, as he looked at the beautiful young girl beside him, he wondered if he might again produce such a work of art. He studied the intricacies of her soul beneath the exquisite physical surface, appreciating its structure as a sculptor might weigh a piece of wood or block of stone, considering what devastating new form he might elicit from the raw material before him.

He had reflected on Orihime's core compassion, and decided with regret that it was a trait he could not use directly. Still, he regretted having to destroy any primary motivations in his subordinates; surely there must be a way to merely distort it, bend it so that it served him? He had been pondering throughout the day, and had finally settled upon a somewhat experimental technique that would sear her compassion, leaving it partially intact, but sealed to his purposes. The series of events he planned possessed the additional advantage of providing him with entertainment beyond that of the ordinary act of lovemaking.

Now it was simply a matter of ordering his actions and those of the people around him to accomplish his will. He had already begun to set up Loly and Menoly to that end; the arrival of Orihime's friends would provide another lever to move her heart and mind in the direction of Aizen's choosing.

He smiled an open, welcoming smile at the young girl, with no hint of his darker thoughts visible on his face, and gestured to the table.

"Here," he said softly. "I'd like you to try these." Orihime looked down at the table. An array of perfectly ripe, red strawberries glistened in its silver dish. Beside it were laid out a bowl of sour cream and a ramekin of dark brown sugar.

"This deceptively simple dish originated in the West, but it is so delightful that I've had it prepared for me many times," he said. "You dip the strawberry in the sour cream, then in the brown sugar." He demonstrated, and then held the sweet fruit directly to Orihime's lips. Hesitantly, she parted them, and he slipped the concoction into her mouth with a seductive smile on his own lips.

She took a bite and swallowed. Her eyes lit up with surprised delight. "It's delicious," she declared.

"Yes, isn't it," he murmured, bending his head closer to hers. "I love the way the brown sugar melts into the pure white sour cream, forming a heavenly sauce that blends perfectly with the tart, pungent taste of the strawberry." He took one himself and ate it slowly, licking his lips, his eyes never deviating from Orihime's face. She swallowed nervously.

"Um, isn't this dessert? Shouldn't we be, uh, eating the main meal first?"

He drew their heads together so their foreheads touched and his loose strand of hair brushed her nose. "I've always believed in eating dessert first." He gently slipped one hand behind her head and brought his mouth to hers. The sweetness of the strawberries was on both of their lips and tongues as they kissed. Orihime's heart beat faster and her head whirled. She felt a vague guilt from eating a fruit she had always associated with Ichigo. But then her arms, almost against her will, reached up and slipped around Aizen's warm body as she allowed him to deepen the kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Challenge – Chap. 7**

**Warning:** This chapter is _very_ dark. Slightly lemony at end; edited to stay within FFnet's content guidelines. Comments, as always, are greatly appreciated.

(Originally posted 20 Dec 2010.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened her eyes. She was in Aizen's bedroom again, and once again the familiar mix of exhilaration and despair swept through her. She was attracted to a kidnapper and murderer. Whenever Aizen spoke to her, she felt confused. His words seemed to trap her brain and her good sense in a net of confusion and tangled emotions. She felt as though she was walking in quicksand, where what she thought was solid ground disappeared under her steps.

Aware that she had awakened, the man lying beside her stirred as well. Aizen rolled over in bed to face Orihime. He felt a surge of pride, the joy of _possession_ of this beautiful woman beside him. He saw the mixed emotions in her face and began to kiss her, slowly, wanting to change her face until all it expressed was desire for him.

"Come now," he murmured in her ear, "am I really that bad?" He gave her a teasing smile and she blushed. "You're thinking again…" he kissed her neck and downward, "that I'm an _evil _man…" He started kissing her breasts, his hands stroking down the sides of her body. Her arms came up to encircle his body and he laughed deep in his throat. "But maybe… that just makes me more… _interesting_…"

He kissed her on the mouth, his tongue lingering inside her as his hands wandered down her belly and along the inside of her thighs. He disengaged from the kiss and drew back, looking into her eyes from only inches away. "Is it so wrong," he whispered, "to love a man who loves you back?" He could feel her tense beneath him at his words and he slowly let his reiatsu soak into her, relaxing her muscles and clouding her mind. He took her mouth again in his and was delighted to feel her respond to him.

XxXxXxX

Aizen stood in the shower, relaxing in the flow of warm water. He smiled to himself, pleased with how well everything was going, with how enjoyable Inoue Orihime was turning out to be as a bed partner. After the ease of the initial seduction, he had been surprised to find that it was more difficult than he expected to completely turn her feelings in the direction he wanted. Her dedication to Kurosaki Ichigo was stronger than he had expected; he had thought it was merely a schoolgirl crush. However, her physical passion for Aizen more than made up for it. He closed his eyes as he ran water over his face, and smiled with satisfaction. He had not expected that she would be so wanton and delightful in bed. She felt so much pleasure at his touch that it almost stirred him. And she showed every bit of whatever she was feeling on her expressive face. It was enchanting.

In fact, her responsiveness had led him to reconsider his initial plans for molding her spirit. He had decided to experiment instead with using sexual pleasure as a lever to move her in the direction he desired. The primal, extreme gratification she received from sex, and its novelty for her, meant that it had the potential to be a powerful lever on her soul.

Admittedly, Aizen had to acknowledge, he was indulging himself as well. It had been a long time since he had let himself get so carried away with mere physical pleasure. Frankly, none of his recent flings had been as satisfactory. There had been few during his long sojourn in Soul Society, due to the requirement to maintain his image. When he did allow himself to be tempted into a liaison, there always had to be an endgame planned in advance. Either the individual had to be made loyal, bound to him securely by some means, or be disposed of by means of an accident or manipulation into a suicidal mission. Eventually most of them were sacrificed in fights with hollows, which had become truly dull for Aizen as he was unable to watch their demise in person.

Indeed, Aizen recognized that if he had a weakness, it was that he derived utter and perhaps excessive pleasure from watching the expressions on his victims' faces as they realized he had betrayed them. His… he had to call it a _compulsion_… to explain everything to them, to watch the horror on their faces as he gloated, might be his undoing someday. Nevertheless, one of his few indulgences in Soul Society during the long decades of pretense, one of the primary means of maintaining his iron self-control during the moments when he had to smile politely or subserviently to stupid fools whose power and intelligence were an insignificant fraction of his, was the knowledge that eventually he would have them at his mercy, and they would lie at his feet, like that bastard Hirako, utterly in his power and fully aware of the horror of what was happening to them.

He smirked at the memory. After all those years of having to bow to that incompetent fool of a captain, to finally have the man on the ground at his feet, terrified and confused… the rush of pleasure he had felt that night had been one of the most intense of his life. He had originally planned to run Hirako through with his sword to complete the effect; however, Urahara's untimely arrival had turned into an unexpected bonus; how much more enjoyable it had ended up to leave Hirako alive, so that for a hundred years he would live on in the knowledge that Aizen had bested him, had humiliated and defeated him. And how fitting that he had at the same time been able to revenge himself upon Urahara by framing the man for his own crimes. After one hundred years, he still savored the raw pleasure of that one night. It had truly been one of his most successful machinations.

Other experiments… had not been so successful. But he usually managed to turn them at a minimum into something to amuse himself. How delightful it had been to run Hinamori through. After all the effort he had poured into her, for her to fail him at the end… so disappointing. But the look of shock and dismay on her trusting face after he had pierced her with Kyouka Suigetsu almost made up for it… almost. He sighed. If only she were still alive, so that he could betray her again, and watch her horrified face one more time… if only that could happen, then he would feel that she had returned to him some modicum of payment for all his time and effort.

So it was with all his sexual interests. Once they began to bore him, he began to set up a plan to eliminate them. He already had plans in place for Loly and Tia Harribel. He usually preferred if he could arrange it so that they were face to face, so that he could fully appreciate the agony on their faces as they realized the depth of his betrayal. They had received the gift of pleasure from his body, and in return he would take his own kind of pleasure from them.

It was fortunate for him that Orihime was so entertaining, since he intended to make use of her after this interlude rather than merely disposing of her. How tedious these weeks would have been if she were boring. But now he could let himself simply enjoy her beautiful body, and take further pleasure in the knowledge that he would then leave her alive to act as his agent, send her out as a ticking time bomb to do his will, all the while making the fools in Soul Society believe that he was done with her.

And meanwhile… he could not recall a partner who had been so responsive to his touch. Everywhere he touched her seemed to light her entire body on fire, even without any of his devious tricks with his reiatsu. And then… there was her innocent creativity in bed, and her wholehearted desire to please him. That was another characteristic that he had never before encountered. She was more selfless than anyone he had known in his long life. Most people, he had found, were selfish in the end, having some ulterior motive, some desire that he would bend to his will, force them to yield to his dominance. Yes, they were drawn to his beauty and power, but they always wanted something from him: status, influence, pleasure… even only his attention. But Orihime… had accepted his explanations and even his lies. She actually wanted him to be happy, even though she still didn't fully trust or love him. It was amazing.

He stretched languidly under the water. It didn't matter that it was taking longer than he expected to bind her to him emotionally; the process itself was so pleasurable that he could wait. Patience, after all, was one of his strong suits.

Of course, there was the potential complication of her friends coming to rescue her. So far, his forces had been successful in delaying the powerful young man and his human and shinigami friends. But none of them had managed to destroy or capture them yet. It was… intriguing that his own creations were being defeated one after another. Kurosaki was looking more and more interesting.

There, he supposed, he should take action. His eyes narrowed as he considered the next approach to take.

XxXxXxX

He had dinner served to Orihime in the small dining room again that evening. Seated beside her on the loveseat, he pressed his body against hers and delighted in her warmth and barely perceptible quivering. He trailed his fingers over the heavy, rich silk of the white dress he had given her and smiled.

He drew the silver soup tureen toward his plate and ladled some of the creamy soup into Orihime's bowl. "This, my dear, is one of my favorites. Poached oysters in saffron cream soup."

He smiled and filled a spoon with the rich concoction. Holding it to her lips, he said, "And what a lovely coincidence; the color is reminiscent of your hair."

Orihime looked at the soup, which indeed had a marked orange tone. She opened her mouth obediently and Aizen slid the spoon in between her lips. She swallowed. It was delicious, and she sighed and let Aizen feed her the rest of the bowl spoonful by spoonful, his eyes smoldering only a few inches away from her face.

"What gives it the orange color?" she asked.

"Saffron," Aizen replied. "The most expensive spice in the world of the living; harvested by hand from the stigma of the saffron crocus, one flower at a time." He smiled at her. "More expensive by weight than gold."

"Oh." Orihime looked back at the soup tureen with a flush of guilt washing over her face.

The brown-haired shinigami chuckled. "Why should a goddess have to worry about the price of what she eats?" He placed a finger on Orihime's chin and turned her face back towards his. "You didn't ask about the oysters."

Orihime's face creased in puzzlement, and he laid a gentle kiss on the wrinkle on her forehead. "Oysters," he whispered, "are an aphrodisiac." He drew her head towards hers and felt the heat of her blush as he began gently kissing the rim of her ear, running his fingers over her throat as he did so. He felt her chest heave, and he felt his own arousal stirring to match hers.

After a moment, however, Orihime pulled away from his kiss. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm really thirsty. Can I have a glass of water? I think that soup was a little salty."

Aizen drew two tall, fluted glasses filled with a fizzy, reddish liquid toward them. "Here. Something special for tonight."

"What's this?" she asked, picking up a glass.

Aizen smiled at her again, picking up his own glass and clinking it to hers. "Strawberry champagne punch. Don't worry," he added at her slight frown, "it's mostly ginger ale. Quite safe for you to drink."

He lifted his glass. "To the goddess of the three worlds."

Orihime blushed again and lifted her glass. It seemed that strawberries were often on the menu in Hueco Mundo. But she was very thirsty, so she put the glass to her lips without comment. It was surprisingly good and very sweet and refreshing. Before she knew it, she had finished the entire glass and Aizen was pouring her another from a beautiful blown-glass decanter.

The rest of the dinner was delicious as always, and afterwards, Orihime gave a small sigh of contentment. She was feeling pleasantly fuzzy and warm, and somehow her spirits had been lightened after so many days of worry.

The man beside her stood and offered her his arm. "Shall we sit in front of the fire for a while, my dear?"

Orihime smiled up at him, unaccountably happy, and gave him her hand. He sat down on the wide couch in front of the fire, and drew her down onto his lap. She giggled suddenly, and he stroked her hair, holding her in his arms. He brought his lips to hers and she wriggled on his lap, causing him to chuckle and hold her more tightly.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue probing into her mouth; then he kissed the line of her jaw up to the base of her ear. Delicately, he extended his tongue to lick very gently along the very edge of her ear; as she gasped, he licked around the inside of the shell of her ear and wove his fingers deep into her hair.

She giggled again. "That tickles!" she exclaimed, as his tongue explored her ear.

He paused to draw back and look at her with a mock offended expression on his face. "Oh, should I stop?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. The movement made her feel a little dizzy. "No…" His face returned to hers, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her ear again.

With his other hand he reached up to unbutton her white silk dress. The buttons were in front, and easy to undo with one hand. The bra she had been given also opened in the front, so he made short work of it as well, and soon she could feel the heat of the flames on the skin of her bare breasts. He bent his head to begin kissing her on the delicate skin there as well, licking her nipples until her breath caught over and over again. She bent her head and buried her nose in his warm, thick head of brown hair with its faintly woodsy scent. He was so beautiful she could hardly believe it… and he made her feel so wonderful…

He lifted her and laid her down full-length on the couch, then slowly drew off her dress, kissing along her body as he did so, his hands slipping between her legs to stroke leisurely down the insides of her thighs. The warmth of the fire felt so good on her bare skin… she arched and sighed loudly. The couch was draped in silk, and just rubbing her body over the smoothness of the fabric was so pleasurable, as he stroked her with his long, beautiful fingers and kissed her again and again. She gasped and clung to him.

He paused for a moment to stretch languidly, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. She murmured, "Don't stop."

He chuckled as she sat up, looking around her. She pouted. "Hey. How come I don't have any clothes on, but you've got everything on." She was a little confused about how that had happened. Her memory seemed a little fuzzy for some reason.

He smiled and stood up. "That is easily remedied." Shortly he had divested himself of his white robe and stood naked before her.

She paused to admire his sculpted body, the long muscular limbs, and his bush of soft, thick brown hair. "Ah," she said, her tongue feeling thick. "Yer— You're beautiful."

He smiled at her as he gently lowered himself onto her body, lying full-length on top of her. She felt his weight on hers, pressing her against the silk of the couch, and sighed at the feeling of security it gave her, pinned against the cushions beneath her. His skin was warm against hers. "As are you," he whispered into her ear.

She twined her fingers around him, stroking him until his breath hitched. He stroked her as well, his expert fingers dancing in a pattern that made her feel helpless with desire. She moaned, and he laughed.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked.

"Yes…" she moaned in frustration. "Yes, I'm ready _now_," she said insistently.

He smirked, and lifted his body onto hers. She let out a long, soft cry and clutched him. He began moving with slow, deliberate strokes as she cried out again with desire.

"More…" she murmured. As he chuckled again and changed his position slightly, a chime sounded in the room. It repeated insistently.

Aizen looked down at her. "Please excuse me," he said as he drew away, leaving her gasping on the couch.

"Nooo…" she said, frustrated and confused.

He smiled down at her. "Just one moment, my dear. This concerns you too." He moved to the mantel and pressed a button. Immediately a video screen came to life. On it was an image of two individuals locked in ferocious battle. One she did not recognize; he might have been one of the Espada. The other—

She saw a flash of bright orange hair. It was Ichigo Kurosaki, ferociously scowling as he wielded his zanpakutou. She heard the clash of blades, the shouting as though from far away. She gasped in horror, expecting the cold wave of fear and guilt to wash over her. But to her surprise, she realized she felt nothing… as though she were cushioned by the warmth and luxury surrounding her, her emotions sealed away from horror and fear. She only felt the frustration of partially satisfied desire.

Aizen was watching her with a smirk of amusement. "Your friend has come to rescue you, risking his life for you," he murmured, "and here you are indulging yourself in lust and hedonism with his enemy." There was a dark, heavy satisfaction in his eyes. He reached over to stroke her naked skin, slipping his fingers between her legs again. She flinched and closed her eyes, moaning again. He rolled over on top of her again and laughed darkly. "Now, do you want me to stop?" He brought his lips close to her ear and made a low noise in his throat. His eyes darkened with amusement as her face stiffened and she shook her head.

He smiled an utterly evil smile. "Now that, my dear, is the proper response of a god. Why should it matter to you whether a human lives or dies?" With that, he began slowly moving on top of her, gradually speeding up until her cries and moans of pleasure mingled with the faint sounds of battle from the video, until he felt her body clench beneath him along with his own.

As he lay on her still-shuddering body, he laughed, deep in his throat, and took her lips one more time in a fierce kiss, a kiss of possession and ownership. She did not move, and as he flicked his tongue over her face, licking her closed eyes, he felt the slight salty taste of tears on her lashes, and felt another powerful contraction of desire within him.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Challenge – Chap. 8**

(Originally posted 1/18/11.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime woke up in her own bed with a pounding headache and no memory of how she had gotten there. She was wearing only a light shift. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called, lifting her head, and immediately regretted it. The room was spinning around her and she was suddenly very nauseous. She realized that she needed to get to the bathroom right away, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, but could not get up. She slumped over with her head in her hands.

Ulquiorra entered the room, and upon seeing her, inquired in his expressionless voice, "Woman, do you require assistance?"

"Could you— could you please help me get to the bathroom?" she asked in a weak voice.

He set down a glass of cloudy white liquid on the bedside table and put an arm around her, supporting her as she got up and stumbled to the bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and was promptly sick.

After she finished retching, she realized that Ulquiorra was holding her hair back from her face. She gagged again on the bitterness in her mouth, and then muttered, "Thank you." She bent over the toilet, leaning on the seat, too weak to get up off her knees, her head pounding.

She heard the water running and a few moments later Ulquiorra was wiping her face with a warm washcloth. "Thank you," she said again. Her voice sounded rough; her throat was sore from the vomiting. He left the room and returned, putting a glass to her lips.

"Drink this," he ordered.

"What— what is it?" she asked, suspicious.

"It is medicine to make you feel better. Now drink."

Obediently, she took the glass and drank the liquid. After a few sips, she could already feel her stomach calming. She finished the glass and leaned against the wall of the bathroom, still too dizzy to get up; her head felt like it was clamped in a vise. She was shivering, chills running through her body, and she had broken out in a cold sweat. Ulquiorra came back with a soft towel, which he wiped around her forehead and neck, drying off some of the sweat. Then he helped her back up and into her bed. He had piled several pillows at the head so that she could sit propped up.

As she relaxed back into the pillows, feeling a little better, she said again, "Thank you very much, Ulquiorra. I really appreciate your help."

He glanced at her with a deadpan expression. "There is no need to thank me. Aizen-sama ordered me to see to your well-being."

At the sound of Aizen's name, Orihime's heart squeezed again, and she started to remember the previous night. A feeling of mingled excitement and horror came over her, and her nausea returned in full force. She moaned, "Oh, I think I'm sick, Ulquiorra."

He straightened and gave her a dispassionate look. "You are merely suffering the after-effects of what happens to humans when they consume an abundance of ethyl alcohol. It will pass shortly."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Ethyl alcohol is poisonous to humans. Why you creatures continue to willingly take poison never ceases to amaze me."

"Poison?" Slowly, more memory of the previous night was returning to her. "The champagne punch." Her voice was flat. "He said it was mostly ginger ale."

"How many glasses did you drink?" Ulquiorra inquired.

"Ohhh," Orihime groaned, putting a hand to her head. "I don't even remember. He kept refilling my glass."

Ulquiorra's lips tightened. "If you are going to spend time in Aizen-sama's company, it would be better for you to keep your wits about you when he starts playing games."

"Games?" said Orihime faintly.

"Yes." He met her eyes with his level green gaze. "You should know Aizen-sama well enough by now to know what he finds entertaining."

Orihime looked at him with sudden attention. "He can't have told you to say that to me."

"No." Ulquiorra's tone was neutral. "But I think you will last longer if you fully understand the situation. Aizen-sama is inordinately powerful. Not just his reiatsu, but also his personality. He crushes those of lesser strength beneath him. Carelessly."

Orihime shivered. She regarded Ulquiorra out of the corner of her eyes. "It almost sounds like you're warning me against Aizen-sama."

Ulquiorra stared at her for a moment. Then he continued, "I am only telling you this because you give Aizen-sama pleasure, and if he destroys you too soon, that pleasure will stop. He gave me orders to see to your health and comfort, and I am following those orders."

"But you are saying things to me he didn't ask you to say." She looked down and fiddled with a loose thread on her nightdress.

"Aizen-sama allows me considerable latitude in determining how I carry out his orders." Ulquiorra moved to the end table and picked up the empty glass. "I can see that he is not treating you the way he treats most of his lovers. For this reason, I can determine that he wishes you to survive. My job, then, is to help you to follow Aizen-sama's wishes."

Her gaze swung to him. "… Most of his lovers?" she said in a small voice.

"Yes. He should have lost interest in you by now. Usually, his attraction does not last long. And when he loses interest in a lover, he often disposes of them." His voice was neutral.

Orihime swallowed, tried to keep her voice calm. "And you say he's treating me differently?"

"Yes." Ulquiorra's brilliant green gaze was steady. "If he thinks a lover might be useful to him, he will keep them around as his subordinate afterward."

"You think," Orihime whispered, "that may be true, that he believes I may be... useful?"

"He must, or he would not order me to take care of you. In any event, it does not matter what you think. You belong to him now and the purpose of your life is to serve him. In order to do that efficiently, you must become stronger."

"What do you mean?" Her voice was still faint.

Ulquiorra looked at her again with that penetrating gaze. "In Las Noches, only the strong survive. I have seen that you are strong. But you must become stronger. In order to do that, you must cease choosing your actions based on emotional concerns."

Orihime stood and turned to look out the window at the crescent moon hanging in the night sky. "No. You're wrong about that." She carefully did not look at Ulquiorra. "Emotional concerns, caring for other people – those are the _only_ reasons to choose one's actions. And in the end, those who _have_ those concerns are stronger than those who don't. I know you don't believe that. Maybe Aizen-sama doesn't believe that. But you both had human souls once. You had a heart."

Ulquiorra said, "I told you, woman, that I do not even know what this 'heart' is that you keep talking about."

"You do not need to know what it is to feel its effects," said Orihime softly. She raised her eyes to look at Ulquiorra. "Aizen-sama has said he cares for me."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. "Of course, if Aizen-sama has said it, then it must be the truth." Orihime wondered if she heard a hint of mockery in the expressionless Ulquiorra's tone of voice. He stood up and walked to the door. "I suggest you rest for the remainder of the day. Aizen-sama will want to see you again tonight, and you must be in good physical condition by then." His voice was cold. "Do you understand, woman?"

Orihime nodded. "Yes, sir," she said, her eyes downcast.

After Ulquiorra had left the room, Orihime swung her legs out of bed. If she continued to lie down, she would fall asleep, and she needed to be awake. To think. To figure out what to do next. She had been reacting without thinking and that needed to change. The medication he had given her was taking effect. The nausea and dizziness had receded, and the headache had quieted to a dull throbbing.

She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take a shower, to try to get the foul taste out of her mouth and off her skin. She would think more clearly if she was clean. And one part of what Ulquiorra said was true. She needed to be strong, to call on her inner strength to help her survive. She had survived being at the mercy of powerful, callous people before. She carefully turned her mind away from the memory of her parents. There was no Sora to rescue her now. Now it was time to think things through lucidly, to take action based on her decisions, and to stop acting like a helpless prisoner.

She attempted to consider the facts neutrally. She had slept with Aizen, had given herself to him. She had done it to help her friends, and, she admitted to herself, because she was attracted to Aizen. Her cheeks burned with guilt at the memory of the intensity of her physical pleasure with him, but she reminded herself that emotional self-recriminations would not help here in Las Noches. She would have to put those aside. Yes, she admitted, she enjoyed being with him despite what he was.

Now, if she wanted to continue to keep her friends – and herself – alive, she had to make sure Aizen continued to deem her useful. She had to understand him for what he was, and try to separate lies from truth. And she would have to accept her own situation. Her life as she had known it was over. Her love for Ichigo must now be channeled into the effort to protect him. She could no longer think of such selfish thoughts as the possibility of being with him. She must think only of others and not of herself.

Finishing in the bathroom, she dressed herself carefully in her Arrancar uniform and sat quietly on her bed. Anyone looking at the video surveillance would see only a quiet, distressed prisoner. But inside, her mind continued to race.

She had come here to protect her friends. But now they had decided to put themselves in more danger to rescue her. She didn't know how much of what Aizen had told her was a lie. But if her friends believed that she had thrown her lot in with Aizen, perhaps they would stop trying to rescue her. Perhaps she could convince Aizen to let them go in return for her loyalty. Her fists clenched, unseen beneath her robes. She would do what had to be done. She would protect them.

XxXxXxX

Aizen stood at the window of his private chamber above the central throne room, gazing out at the unchanging night sky. The scene never failed to soothe him with its austere beauty, the reversed crescent moon surrounded by a blaze of stars, unmarred by a single cloud. It was pure and clean, free of the distracting messiness of weather in the human world.

He sensed the approaching reiatsu but did not turn. Why bother dignifying the other with an acknowledgment of his presence?

"Aizen-sama," came the mocking drawl of his second-in-command.

"Gin." He continued to gaze out the window.

"Is that girl pleasin' ya?" asked the other. When Aizen turned to regard him, Gin's face was even blanker than usual, eyes slitted shut, the unalterable grin at its normal width.

"That should not matter to you, Gin," he said quietly, watching his subordinate's face closely.

There was a slight flicker across Gin's visage. Then he said, "I want ya ta be pleased, Aizen-sama. I could help ya with her there."

"Indeed," said Aizen. He narrowed his eyes. "What is your report on the human and shinigami incursion?"

Gin's smile faltered minutely for a moment. "Aw, too bad. I thought we could have some fun with that girl."

"I told you, no, Gin." There was a faint undercurrent of menace in the soft voice.

Gin sighed. "Very well, Aizen-sama. Rukia Kuchiki is now fightin' Aaroniero. Looks like he's stompin' her. I can route the video wherever ya like."

Aizen turned to face the window again. "Good. Route it to my quarters. I'll be there for the rest of the afternoon."

Behind him, Gin bowed. "At once, Aizen-sama." Where Aizen could not see, the silver-haired shinigami permitted a half-mocking, half-angry expression to reach his face. Then he swept silently out of the room.

After he left, Aizen allowed his lips to curl in a faint smirk.

XxXxXxX

Gin walked down the hall, his mind working rapidly. Aizen had, in the past, never minded talking about his playthings with Gin. The fact that he wouldn't talk with him about the girl was a very bad sign. He knew Aizen thought himself above human emotions. But he knew, all too well, that Aizen did develop emotions about certain individuals; he became fascinated with certain of his toys and then chose to keep them around. Aizen understood human motivations with extraordinary clarity – except when it came to his own.

In Soul Society, he had been much more discreet about acting on his whims. Here in Hueco Mundo, secure in his power, he had been more open about taking whatever he wanted. The drawback to him, of course, was that his motivations had become more visible. Of course, this was an advantage to Gin.

Gin smiled to himself. Aizen had become interested in the girl. That meant that she could become a power player in the Las Noches hierarchy. She could even acquire some momentary importance in the shifting sands of politics in Aizen's court. In that event, using her could have value.

Or, he thought to himself with amusement, she could be removed from play. Of course, it would have to be done in such a way that Aizen would not suspect who performed the removal.

Either way, it looked like it was time for him to make the girl's acquaintance.

XxXxXxX

The two Arrancar walked rapidly down one of the endless white halls of Las Noches. Menoly said, her face creased with a nervous frown, "But why would he want to see us?"

Loly shrugged. "Who the hell cares?" She scowled at her friend.

They came to a large set of double doors and hesitated, looking at each other. Loly raised her hand to knock, only to hear a voice from within before she had touched the door. "Come in."

Menoly shot a nervous glance at her black-haired companion, who shrugged again and squared her shoulders, displaying a belligerent attitude to hide her unease. Then Loly sashayed into the room, followed by Menoly. "You asked to see us, Ichimaru-sama?"

The silver-haired shinigami sat in a tall chair in semi-darkness. Loly could just barely see his slitted eyes, the ever-present smile she still found creepy. He waited in silence.

After a while, Menoly knelt, and tugged at Loly until she sank to the floor beside her.

Ichimaru's smile widened. "That's better." He waved a hand, the bell sleeve sliding back and exposing his thin wrist. "You may rise." His accent was much less pronounced than when he had spoken with Aizen previously.

"Why did you wish to see us, sir?" asked Menoly, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Ichimaru paused again. "I think…" he murmured, as if to himself, "that if you go to the central video control room tomorrow at 1400 hours, without letting anybody see you, that you will find… something interesting." He glanced up at Loly, and opened his eyes, staring directly at her with that unnerving blue-green gaze. "Something potentially rewarding… for you."

XxXxXxX

Orihime had finally made her bed and was finishing her lunch. The food helped to settle her queasy stomach, but she still felt weak and sick. She leaned heavily on the table, head in her hands, as she slowly took each bite.

The door to her room opened without a knock. A tall, thin man with fine silver hair and slitted eyes entered and stood at the threshold regarding her.

"Yare, yare," said the man softly. "Ya don't seem to be feelin' too well, Orihime-chan." He smiled at her.

Orihime stared, trying to place him. Then it came back to her. Ichimaru Gin, one of the traitor captains who had betrayed Soul Society alongside Aizen. She stood up, a bit shaky still, and bowed her head. "Ichimaru-sama."

"Aw, ya don' need to be so formal with me, Orihime-chan." There was a mocking undertone in his voice. Orihime sucked in her breath, warning herself to pay close attention to whatever lay behind his words. She needed to understand his motivations. This was the man Rukia had compared to a snake. She needed to be careful around him.

"Why have you come to see me, Ichimaru-sama?" she asked politely.

"Aw, I knew ya were visitin' us, but I jus' haven't had a chance to talk with ya yet," he drawled, smiling, as he pulled out a chair and seated himself across from her at the table. "I'm jus' hopin' to get ta know ya better, Orihime-chan."

She stared at him. What was his game? He was the second-in-command here in Las Noches. Why would he be visiting a prisoner? Had Aizen sent him here?

She brought up her game face and smiled in return. "It would be nice to know you better, Ichimaru-sama," she said in a hesitant voice.

She did not see any change in his expression, but she sensed faint approval in his reiatsu. "Now that's jus' great, Orihime-chan." He hitched his chair closer. "Ya see, the way I see it, we should stick together." He grinned broadly at her.

"Stick together, Ichimaru-sama?" Orihime repeated politely. "What do you mean by that?"

He cocked his head to one side and regarded her. "Welll, ya see, we're all here at Aizen-sama's mercy. We need ta help each other ta make sure none of us gets on his bad side, ya know?"

She stared at him. "Ichimaru-sama, I don't understand."

He said softly, "Oh, I think ya do." He leaned forward and whispered, "It's so easy for him ta kill anyone. All he has ta do is raise his reiatsu until ya can't breathe, your heart can't pump. He's so strong, that we're all like ants ta him. He has ta keep himself from crushin' us. So we all gotta stick together, tell each other the important stuff so's we can protect ourselves from Aizen-sama."

Orihime shivered. Then she looked at Ichimaru directly. "Why are you telling me this, Ichimaru-sama?"

Ichimaru leaned back, his grin widening. "Aw, I'm jus' tryin' to help out a friend." He stood up. "Bye-bye, Orihime-chan." With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Orihime staring after him with a puzzled look on her face.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Challenge – Chap. 9**

**A/N:** Thanks to **Icecat45, Kelsey L Leigh, Eldar-Melda, EternalRoses, Twoformemories, unsunned, Onlynameleft, ldzetc, kickcows, ladybearington, nel, nypsy, MM08, Nikora-Jein, JC-zala, Tina Caps, Gr8pes, chuchootrain, FIrebane5, jigoku-kage, krazykoreangurl**, **DoubleCandy**, **Usio-Amamiya**, **silvermercy**, and **Leif the Lucky** for reviewing multiple chapters and giving encouraging and helpful comments.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, but be warned: it's quite dark.

**Warnings:** dark; mild lemon; heavy-duty angst.

(Originally posted 2/19/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Aizen rose as Orihime entered the room. "My dear Orihime. Such a pleasure to see you again." He took her face in his hands, kissed her gently full on the lips. "Please, have a seat." He gestured to the table, already set with a sumptuous dinner. Her nostrils flared unconsciously at the delicious odors rising from the covered dishes.

She hesitated, and he tilted his head. "Would you prefer, perhaps, to relax on the couch for a few minutes?"

She flushed at his gesture to the couch where the events of the previous evening had transpired. "No. No, thank you. I'm ready for dinner."

He smirked. As he took her hand to lead her to the table, he paused. He had been scanning her reiatsu as he always did when others entered his presence, and he had noticed something different. Her energy field… was disturbed. It had somehow transformed. The shape… no, the texture… of her energy was altered. He focused his attention and probed her more deeply.

There was a foreign substance within her. His eyes narrowed. Had one of his enemies planted some type of reiatsu device within her, perhaps a bomb set to detonate in his presence? Rapidly, he created a reiatsu shield around her, a barrier that would keep him safe in the event of an attack. He was nothing if not cautious.

She felt the shield appear around her and her head came up in surprise. She stretched out one arm to feel the barrier, her fingers spread. He gave her a reassuring smile to calm her.

"Don't worry," he said. "I've simply created a reiatsu shield around you. I detected a change in your energy field and I am examining it."

"Oh! Okay, then. Thank you," she said quietly, sitting down at the table and folding her hands in her lap.

"My dear, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait for a moment before beginning dinner." She was clearly ignorant of any schemes, he realized as he continued to probe. The reiatsu frequencies that comprised her mental activities were clear and untainted with deceit. As always, her mind was open to him. If anything had been done to her, it had been without her consent.

She looked puzzled, but sat without complaint, looking up at him. Her face was guileless, and he suddenly felt a pang of something odd. Not just at the danger to himself, which he was used to and had dealt with many times. A man in his position always had many enemies. No, the feeling was about her, and the danger to her life. Surprised at his own reaction, he told himself that of course she would be vulnerable to being used by his enemies. He laughed inwardly. He couldn't be feeling protective of her. That would be a weakness, and he had none.

He continued to examine her reiatsu carefully. After a moment he stopped. "My dear. This is a surprise." He looked at her. "Do you realize you're pregnant?"

She turned to face him, her eyes wide with shock, mouth open. "Pregnant?" Her voice cracked on the second syllable. "You mean, with a baby?"

He laughed as he continued to inspect the entire frequency domain of her reiatsu. "That is how it usually works for humans." His eyes narrowed. "And it appears to be my child."

"Well, who else's would it be?" asked Orihime with a hint of belligerence. "You're the only one who's ever… I mean I haven't…" She trailed off, blushing again and feeling confused.

Aizen leaned back, relaxed as always, taking this new development in stride. He smiled at her. "I suppose congratulations are in order, my dear."

"Uh, thank you," said Orihime. "But, does this mean I'll need to take care of a baby? Because I'm really kind of young for that. And I'm supposed to finish high school…" Her voice died out as she began to consider some of the implications.

"I'm sure we can find you a nursemaid among the Arrancar. Your schooling would not need to be interrupted." Aizen was distracted, still running his hands over her body, thoughts turned inward, as he started to realize the complications that could ensue from this event.

Yet, he had to admit to himself, he felt oddly proud. He had never fathered a child before. Shinigami almost never produced offspring. He glanced up at Orihime's face; she looked worried, her hands cupped protectively over her belly. He needed to reassure her, first of all. Then he could decide what to do later. First, he dropped the reiatsu shield so he could touch her. There was no danger now.

"My dear Orihime. You should be happy. This is a joyous occasion." He leaned over and kissed her gently. "This is a tangible expression of our love."

Her eyes looked back at him with anxiety. "Are you happy about it?" She had heard of too many men who didn't want children, who dumped their girlfriends when they got pregnant. But surely Aizen wouldn't be so irresponsible. She was surprised to find that she cared what he thought. She wanted him to want her child, she realized with sudden shock.

"Of course I'm happy. As a matter of fact, I'm ecstatic," he told her. "This means we have a future together. We're bound together by this child." His gaze locked on hers. "A fact that pleases me very much."

She smiled up at him tentatively, her mind whirling. This was too confusing. She had to sort through her own feelings while trying to sift truth from lies in Aizen's words… it was too much. Then she shook her head mentally. Strong. She needed to be strong. Aizen was playing the role of the proud father. She would follow his lead. She would keep her emotions under control. She took a deep breath and looked at him calmly, allowing her smile to widen slightly.

He returned the smile. "Now, since you'll be eating for two…" he said as he took one of the silver covers off a serving dish and began ladling food onto her plate, "you'll need to get started on dinner." As he watched her, he saw her confusion still visible on her face. His own expression betrayed nothing of the complex thoughts suddenly running through his own mind. This was merely another interesting and unexpected situation he would turn to his own advantage. Nothing more.

In the meantime, he had quite an enjoyable evening planned, and he did not intend to let any distractions interfere with his plans or his pleasure. He smiled warmly at her and sent out calming vibrations through his reiatsu, including a few tendrils that caressed her body gently with long, lingering strokes as he ran one hand lightly through her hair. He felt her tremble underneath his touch, and his smile turned slightly dark.

XxXxXxX

The slender white candles on the maroon tablecloth had burned down almost to stubs by the time the last course of the elegant dinner was served.

Orihime leaned back and sighed. Each course had been more delicious than the last, and she could not remember feeling so full after a meal. She had tucked away a prodigious amount of food, but Aizen had refrained from commenting on it. Of course, she always ate enough for about five people, but he probably didn't know that.

She was feeling quite comfortable and relaxed. Aizen had continued to reassure her that he was pleased with her pregnancy, but then had turned the conversation to other topics, expressing such interest in her rather ordinary life that she had at first been puzzled, then engaged and flattered by his attention and apparent fascination with her stories. She knew she had gone a bit overboard with a few fanciful stories, but he hadn't seemed to mind.

She had been worried that he would try to get her to drink more alcohol this evening, and she had firmly resolved to say no to even a sip after last night's debacle. However, he had not even offered any this evening, instead sipping himself from a single glass of blood-red wine. There had been a large flagon of water on the table that she had helped herself to. Everything was going well, and she was congratulating herself on keeping up with Aizen's clever wit as they shared the perfectly prepared meal.

He sat close to her, large dark eyes fixed on hers, taking in her every word as though it was the most appealing thing he had ever heard. Even though she knew he must be lying to her, tricking her, she could not keep herself from being pleased by his attention. With mingled shame and rueful amusement, she thought to herself that it was exciting even to be lied to by Aizen Sousuke.

And once again she felt her treacherous body responding to his nearness, his warm thigh pressed against hers, his fingers stroking her hair or trailing across her throat. He did not miss an opportunity to touch her, and each time he did, her body thrilled to the contact. She could almost not bear how attracted she was to him. She knew what was going to happen again tonight, and even though she told herself she should remain aloof, she could not help herself. She found herself leaning into him on the narrow loveseat, turning her face into his hand, leaving her hand out on the table where he could play with her fingertips. She _wanted_ him to touch her, stroke her, take her under his control again. She shivered under his touch, and the shiver was intensely pleasurable.

Even though her mind was unclouded by alcohol tonight, it felt hazed with desire. And he was acting pleased with her, pleased that she would have his child… didn't that make her special, precious? She would be the mother of Aizen Sousuke's child. She could not help thinking that it changed everything. He had told her he had never fathered a child before, that this would be his first, his only. He gazed at her with his large, expressive, deep brown eyes, took her hands in his, and told her how much it meant to him.

She had no idea if he was telling the truth or not.

His hands were on her, all over her, and his mouth reached for hers. She reached up for him eagerly, feeling the deep thrumming in her blood, the excitement of lust that had already become familiar to her, and she felt her heart quicken. He unbuttoned her robes, slipped his fingers and then his mouth and tongue underneath the fabric. She arched on the seat, bared her breasts to him. Her skin sparked at every touch of his long and beautiful fingers, of his flickering tongue. She felt the need rise in her, and her mouth became greedy, her hands avid on his firm, well-muscled body. She became someone else under Aizen's hands, and for a time it seemed that it did not matter.

He kissed her, nipped at her lower lip, licked the insides of her ears until she quivered and moaned. And when he slid his hands deep under her dress and cupped her between her thighs, she was already ready for him. He made a pleased noise in his throat and scooped her up from the seat, stood with her in his arms. She closed her eyes and clung to him, laying her cheek against his chest and feeling his heart beat fast beneath his white robe.

He shunpoed into his dimly lit bedroom and laid her carefully on the large bed, murmuring to her. Slowly and with infinite tenderness, he undressed her, pausing every now and then to trail his fingers across her skin or lay a line of kisses across her throat or belly. She writhed under his touch and reached out for him.

He undressed himself swiftly and crawled onto the bed with her, those large, liquid eyes gazing at her until she felt she could drown in them. He undid her, she thought, made her helpless with desire, until all she wanted was to please him and be pleased by him. She locked her legs around his waist, and she gasped at how he filled her, completed her. She was lost, lost in his eyes and his hands; he had captured her, taken her body and soul, and as he brought her to the cliff of pleasure and dropped her over it, she felt him shudder against her, and together they fell into the darkness.

XxXxXxX

Sometime later, Orihime woke in the dark in the large bedroom, coming awake abruptly, her heart racing as though she had just received a shock. She looked around her in confusion. Aizen's tower bedroom had two windows that faced into the Las Noches dome, where the artificial sun rose at six a.m. every morning and lit the interior of the room with its brilliant, cloudless glare.

But it was still dark now, so it must still be the middle of the night. The two windows with open curtains showed only the eternal night sky, the slowly wheeling stars forming a backdrop for the reversed crescent moon, its pale light showing Aizen asleep in bed beside her. His breathing was deep and slow, one arm draped in casual possessiveness over her naked body. She curled up against his chest and felt his arm tighten around her in his sleep. But she was abruptly too alert to sleep. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the high, dim ceiling. In the darkness, she could not see the many luxuries of the beautiful, high-ceilinged room, but she knew they were there. Aizen slept in a room fit for a king, with an arched ceiling covered with frescoes, gilded sconces encasing delicate blown-glass light globes scattered across the walls, intricately carved teak doors alternating with tall, arched windows on all four sides.

She wondered what it meant for her now, to be the mother of this man's child. It was a terrifying, huge thought. She still did not really understand or believe it. She turned her attention inward, trying to sense the reiatsu of the tiny life within, but her untrained perceptions were rudimentary and she could detect nothing clearly. She wondered, once again, if Aizen was telling the truth about her pregnancy.

But why would he lie? It did not seem that he would have anything to gain by it. And she did feel… different. As though her own reiatsu had a new, rougher, almost pebbled texture to it. Her body had clearly changed; a new set of hormones must be coursing through her system. She sighed and laid her palms on her still-flat belly. Somewhere deep within her, she remembered from her health classes, new organs were beginning to grow, new sets of blood vessels extending to nurture the tiny spark of life. Her body was metamorphosing into something wholly other.

She drew in her breath, suddenly frightened at the changes within. And not just to her body, but also her mind. Abruptly, she found that she could no longer think of the father of her child as an enemy. Her plans to destroy the Hougyoku winked and disappeared into thin air. As Aizen had said, she was now bound to him.

But she did not feel happy about it. She felt the deep link almost as though she had a chain wound into her womb, a shackle that bound her to the Lord of Las Noches with divine strength. Ichigo and her friends had never been so far away. She reached out with her reiatsu and felt nothing. Had they given up on rescuing her? Had they been killed? She could feel nothing.

Slowly, she felt her eyes brim with tears, felt their warm salty wetness on her cheeks, feeling herself sinking into guilt and sorrow. What had she become?

Then she stopped, listening. Far below her, on the long stairway leading up to Aizen's bedroom, she could hear pounding feet.

Beside her, Aizen stirred and then sat up, instantly alert. She saw him glance at the sword stand beside his bed, but he did not move for his zanpakutou. Instead, he propped himself up against the pillows and curled an arm around Orihime. With his other hand he made a gesture, and light flooded the room. Orihime blinked in the sudden brightness.

Abruptly, the door of Aizen's bedroom flew open and banged against the wall. Orihime looked up in shock as an orange-haired youth with a fierce scowl ran in, brandishing his huge zanpakutou.

"Aizen, you bastard, I'm going to kill you!" Ichigo shouted, skidding to a stop.

Aizen relaxed against the pillows and smiled, looking up at Ichigo. He didn't even raise his spiritual pressure. He looked completely calm.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he said softly. "It's rude to interrupt lovers in their bed."

Ichigo's grip on his sword wavered. He had noticed Orihime and his face blanched. "Inoue?" he squeaked, his voice breaking and his sword arm dropping to his side. He stared at her, his weapon completely forgotten.

"Kurosaki-kun," Orihime whispered back in return, feeling her face burning with embarrassment. She wanted to sink into the floor and die. This was the worst possible scenario. Here Ichigo was risking his life to rescue her, only to find her in his enemy's bed. She hung her head, hoping that he would kill her and at last bring her relief from her guilt.

"What— what are you doing?" he asked, his voice faint.

Aizen put an arm around Orihime and smirked. He was clearly enjoying the situation. "What does it look like, Ichigo? Orihime is my lover now."

"Your— lover?"

"Yes… so I suggest you gather up your rag-tag band of friends, and go home. I'll allow you to leave with your lives if you refrain from further violence against my subjects."

"Inoue…" Ichigo looked at Orihime with agony written all over his face. "This can't be true…" Then his face cleared and he looked back at Aizen with anger. "This is Kyouka Suigetsu, isn't it? You've created an illusion to fool me."

Aizen chuckled. "You know as well as I do that I've never released my shikai in front of you, Ichigo. Much as you would like it to be an illusion, I'm afraid that you are seeing reality. Orihime has chosen me."

"No…" the substitute shinigami cried. "You must have tricked her, or trapped her somehow." He looked back at Orihime. "Inoue, I know he's forced you into this." He glared at Aizen and pointed his sword at him again. "Release her and let her come back with me, and I'll allow you to live."

This time Aizen laughed out loud. "Kurosaki-sama is generous," he replied in a mocking tone. "You are in the heart of my territory, and you offer me _my_ life?" His expression calmed. "Why don't you ask Orihime to give you her own answer?"

"No!" Ichigo said again in a tight voice. "I won't believe anything she says in front of you. You've got her under control somehow. I came to rescue her and I will." He raised his sword.

Aizen leaned back into the pillows and smiled again. "If you believe this is an illusion, how do you know that when you attack me with that oversized sword, that you won't be stabbing your own… friend? If I were using Kyouka Suigetsu, I could control your five senses and make you believe that I was in front of you when it was actually Orihime."

Ichigo's face darkened. "Well, what is it now, Aizen? First you say you haven't released your shikai before me, now you say you're using it. What is the truth?"

Aizen smiled. "There is no truth, Ichigo. And you will never know around me."

Scowling, Ichigo advanced, zanpakutou held high. Aizen didn't move; he stayed relaxed against the pillows, utterly still as Ichigo approached and brought the tip of his sword to Aizen's naked chest. His eyes were locked on Ichigo's.

Abruptly, Ichigo's face fell and he pulled his sword away. "Damn you, Aizen. You've got me. I can't take the chance. Sorry, Inoue."

Aizen smiled in triumph. "Tell Ichigo you'd like him to leave, Orihime," he said quietly.

Orihime whispered, not daring to look Ichigo in the eyes, "He's right, Kurosaki-kun. Please— leave here. Don't think about rescuing me anymore. Please."

"Inoue—" he said, reaching out to her. "I don't believe that's what you really want."

Suddenly, she looked up at him, glaring. "Believe it! I have promised myself to Aizen-sama. There's nothing you can do about it, so—" her resolve suddenly broke and she looked down again. "So please leave, Kurosaki-kun. I want you to be safe." She looked up, agony in her eyes. "Goodbye, Kurosaki-kun. Please… don't think too harshly of me."

"No…" He was still shaking his head.

At that, Aizen raised his spiritual pressure. Orihime could feel he was directing it exclusively at Ichigo, for it did not affect her, but the orange-haired youth gasped and fell to his knees on the floor, his sword clattering to his side.

"Be grateful I don't kill you." Aizen's voice was cold. "You have invaded my home, killed my people, and threatened me and my loved one in my bed. It is only because I wish to spare Orihime pain that I am allowing you to leave unscathed. Don't try my patience any longer."

There was a pounding on the stairs outside, and two Arrancar guards rushed into the room, swords drawn. They stopped short at the sight of Ichigo crumpled on the floor.

Aizen's voice was soft. "Take him and his friends and send them back to the world of the living. They are to be allowed to depart unharmed if they cooperate and agree to leave immediately, without further fighting." Aizen paused and gazed at Ichigo. "However, should they resist in any way, you have my permission— to kill them." His lips curled in a smirk.

"Hai, Aizen-sama," said one of the guards as the two of them grabbed Ichigo's arms and hustled him out of the room.

Orihime felt cold, as cold as though her whole body had turned to ice. Aizen slipped his arms around her. "Ssh," he whispered into her hair, kissing the top of her head. "Hush, it's all right now, you're safe with me."

Orihime thought to herself, blocks of ice can't be hurt. They can't feel anything. They're always safe. She stared sightlessly out the window at the unchanging night sky.

"Don't worry," Aizen said softly, a calm smile on his face once more. "I'll protect you, Orihime." He passed his hand over her eyes and she felt herself slipping into sleep.

XxXxXxX

Orihime woke up that morning back in her own room. She sat up abruptly and looked around. She did not remember coming back here… The memories of the night before surged into her consciousness. The dinner with Aizen. Him telling her she was pregnant. Once again, she stopped and checked her own reiatsu, felt that strange, mottled texture, so different from normal.

They had made love. She felt a blush rise on her cheeks. Then… Ichigo had burst in…

She felt cold, ice at her heart, a frozen dagger piercing her soul. She had believed last night that surely she had lost him forever, had lost her true love, her soul mate, the one she had believed she would love for five lifetimes and beyond… But what had really happened last night? It had been strange, she thought, that she, who could always sense Ichigo's reiatsu from anywhere, had been unable to sense him on the stairs as he approached.

More… she couldn't remember feeling his reiatsu anywhere in the room last night. She took a sharp breath as her heart began to thud.

Had it really been him? She reached out with her senses.

There. She could feel him. Ichigo was somewhere in Hueco Mundo, still fighting. He had not been escorted out by Aizen's guards. It must have all been an illusion; Aizen had been using Kyouka Suigetsu on her.

But why?

Angrily, she wiped the tears away and got out of bed. She went into the bathroom and took a hot shower, but it did not warm her. Instead, she felt cold anger encasing her, and she welcomed it. Anger would nurture her; it would give her strength.

And she would need strength now, to sustain herself against Aizen's _games_. He said he loved her, acted like he cherished her, but then he amused himself by playing games with her mind and body. By tormenting her. She dressed herself with fury, arms jabbing through her sleeves, tying the obi of her dress with a sharp tug, shoving a brush through her hair.

Then she sat at her table and stared at the wall.

The door opened suddenly and she looked up, scowling. Gin had entered her room without knocking again. She beetled her eyebrows at him, emboldened by her rage. "I would appreciate it if you would knock before entering."

Gin laughed and set one hip on her table, looking down at her. "I'm second-in-command here. I don't need permission to enter one of our prisoners' cells." His accent, and his friendly attitude from yesterday, seemed to have disappeared.

Frowning, she turned her face away.

Gin took her chin in his long fingers and forced her to face him. "You look troubled," he mused, studying her face. "Is anything wrong?"

She flushed. "No. Nothing's wrong." Her eyes fired with anger. "Unless you call being kidnapped and kept prisoner wrong. But I suppose such criminal acts don't bother you."

He laughed. "My dear young girl, we are at war. As such, our actions are not to be considered criminal, but strategic." He gestured at the room. "And can you deny that we have treated you well? We have given you more physical comforts than most prisoners. Indeed, even more than we ourselves would be given, should Soul Society capture us."

"I still don't like being held here against my will."

"Ah, but is it really against your will?" He smiled more widely at her. "I have kept track of your movements, my dear. The nights you've spent in Aizen-sama's personal quarters? I know, for instance, that you were there again last night." He reached forward and traced her cheek with his fingers. "And as a matter of fact, I can detect his reiatsu signature on you. In you. You carry his seed now, don't you?"

She blushed bright red, and he regarded her with amusement. "You're really one of us now, aren't you. Soul Society, you know, would condemn you as a traitor for sure." He brought his face close to hers and lowered his voice to a whisper. "They'll never forgive Aizen-sama for making a fool out of them. Even if he proves that all he did was to benefit the three worlds, they'll still brand him as evil. And now that you have gone to Aizen-sama's bed, you will be tarred with the same brush."

She turned away, fiddling with the fastenings of her uniform.

"You've betrayed your friends, allied with Soul Society's worst enemy," he continued. "And what's more, there's no way to hide it from them." He gestured at her belly. "You carry the reiatsu signature of the enemy within you."

She flushed again.

"Do you know," he mused, "that Soul Society believes that allies of a traitor are also traitors? Have you realized what that means for your friends who have come here to rescue you?"

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "What? They surely can't be blamed for my actions."

"Oh, but they can." His smile widened. "Soul Society doesn't believe in that pathetically soft human ideology, 'innocent until proven guilty.' The child you carry irrevocably links both you and your friends to Soul Society's enemies." He suddenly opened his eyes. His blue-green gaze was intense. "Unless, of course, you can convince them that you were impregnated unwillingly."

She stared at him. "But… how could they believe that? You've already told me they think I came here of my own free will. What more will they think when I give birth to the child of their enemy?"

He leaned closer, his smile disappearing. "What if the child no longer existed?"

Orihime gasped and laid her hands protectively over her belly. "What are you saying?"

He said softly, "Just so you know, the surveillance cameras in this room are off. They have been off each time I visited you. No one will know I've been here."

She looked at him, eyes wide with fear. "Are you saying you're going to kill my child?"

He smirked. "No. Of course not. I would never do such a terrible thing."

She sat back, took a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

"But I must point out that that fetus isn't really a child yet. It's an amorphous cluster of cells. An interloper within your body."

"No. I see where you're going with this. I would never agree to an abortion."

He leaned back, scrutinized her from under closed lids. "Then let's consider what possibilities the future holds. Let's say your friends are successful in rescuing you. Perhaps you could persuade Aizen-sama to… shall we say, be a little less vigorous in pursuing them." He paused to eye her. "So you return to the world of the living with your friends. A few months from now, it becomes clear that you have a little surprise." She sucked in her breath. "Of course, the question that will inevitably arise will be, 'who is the father?'"

He smiled at her. "Now, of course, once Aizen-sama wins his little game with Soul Society, it might not matter. But that might take a while. In the meantime, Soul Society will examine you and the baby's reiatsu. They will determine paternity. They will conclude that you are a traitor, and what's more, your friends are all traitors for helping to rescue you and the child of their greatest enemy." He smiled at her.

"Soul Society doesn't bother with tedious human legalities like trials. You will be executed before you have a chance to give birth to the abomination. And your friends will be executed as accessories to your crime."

"No. That can't be what will happen."

"Oh yes. Remember, I've been an officer in the Soul Society for a hundred years. I've seen this type of travesty of justice many times. Why do you think I agreed to join Aizen-sama in his rebellion? Was it merely for more power?" He smiled. "As a captain in the Soul Society, I had nearly absolute power. I held the lives of everyone in my division in my hands. If I so chose, I could execute anyone, and no questions were asked." His smile turned dark. "Indeed, I have exercised that prerogative many times."

He leaned closer to her. "By going back to the human world, carrying your child, you will sign your friends' death warrants. Not to mention yours and your child's."

She clutched the table, tendons standing out on the back of her hands. "Then I'll stay here. I'll ask Aizen-sama if I can stay here."

"And— perhaps— he would grant your wish. But consider what would happen then. Your friends are here. They are not going to leave without you. Aizen-sama might choose not to send his strongest forces against them. They would then batter their way into the palace, and would find you in your room."

She turned away and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Do you think they would listen to your protests? If you tell them you are carrying Aizen-sama's child, you've condemned them to death for knowingly aiding and abetting the enemy. If you make up a story as to why you have to stay, do you think Kurosaki Ichigo will listen? They will believe you have been brainwashed and will carry you out by force."

She put her fists against her forehead. Yes. It was all true.

"So what is the other option?" the silky voice went on smoothly. "The only way your friends will fail to rescue you is if they are killed. Undoubtedly, we could accomplish this, by sending our strongest Espada against the upstarts. But that would defeat your entire purpose, wouldn't it."

He moved closer, lowered his voice. "The only way to save your friends is to allow them to rescue you, and to return to the human world untainted. Your desire to save your friends is a shackle that restricts your behavior and allows you only one choice."

"No," Orihime cried, her eyes squeezed shut in agony. She took a deep breath. "… What would Aizen-sama say if I… asked him about ending this pregnancy?"

His smile twisted as he murmured, "Once you tell him, you will have abdicated your ability to make the decision. Aizen-sama will then choose the path that suits him the best. He doesn't care about your friends' lives."

Orihime dropped her face into her hands. "But… if I do it… then he'll find out. And then… what will become of me… and my friends?"

He shrugged. "Aizen-sama is a very practical man. Once the deed is done, he will accept reality. And… Did he want this child? Did he plan it?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. No. He was surprised."

"As I would have thought. Human-shinigami hybrids are very rare, you know," he added. "Kurosaki Ichigo's birth was quite an event." His eyes grew misty with memory. "And they have… unusual abilities. As you are no doubt familiar with." His voice grew brisk. "They are usually targets for hollows, and most don't survive long. That Kurosaki Ichigo still exists is a tribute to Kurosaki Isshin's power and determination. And training."

He turned to Orihime and continued, his voice low and intense. "You may also be basing your thoughts on how Aizen-sama will react on human behavior when they produce offspring. That would be a tactical error. Aizen-sama has become immortal. An immortal has no need of an heir. A shinigami-human hybrid with Aizen Sousuke's blood… would be a powerful being… perhaps even the most powerful being in existence. If Aizen-sama holds the spirit throne, the child would be the only competitor. The only rival." He glanced at her. "Do I need to tell you how Aizen Sousuke treats rivals?"

She shook her head, trembling, and wrapped her arms around her body.

"If this is all true," she whispered, "then I will need to think about… ending the pregnancy."

"Take your time. Think about it all you like." He stood up. "Until your friends get here… which I estimate will be… within 24 hours." He grinned. "I would think fast if I were you."

"But wait…" she said. "How would I even get an abortion here?" She shuddered. "I don't want to go to Szayel."

"Oh no." He opened his eyes wide. "Don't you realize? You don't need anyone." His smile became a smirk. "You have the power to reject events, to make things as they were before. You don't even need an abortion. You don't need to worry about taking a life. All you have to do… is undo the event that happened within your own body." His bright, blue-green eyes were intense. "Use your powers to simply make yourself as you were before. Your conscience will be clear, as there will never have been a life there at all."

With that, he walked out of the room. She did not see his smile return as he turned down the corridor and began walking back to his chambers.

XxXxXxX

Orihime stared at the wall blankly. Gin's words echoed in her head, and she folded her hands protectively about her belly, her head whirling as she considered the terrible choice she had in front of her. To unmake her child… as though he or she never had been… how could she do that?

And yet, if she did not, she was condemning all her friends to death. She could not allow that. Not after she had really betrayed them by sleeping with Aizen. How could she live with that, if Ichigo were ever to really find out? She shuddered at the memory of the image of him walking in on the two of them in Aizen's bed.

Orihime trembled at the nightmare that played itself out again in her mind. Ichigo would resist, she knew. And be killed. And that was even without her pregnancy coming into the picture. Who knew how much worse that would make things?

She bent her head. Oh, what should she do?


	10. Chapter 10

**The Challenge – Chap. 10**

**A/N:** Another dark chapter with lots of Aizen's POV as he muses on the past and future, and reacts to the idea of fatherhood. A number of key plot points are introduced.

**Warnings: **Other than the usual warnings about being inside Aizen's head, some implied Aizen/Gin.

(Originally posted 2/27/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Aizen reclined on his couch in the privacy of his quarters, watching the surveillance video, amused. Gin undoubtedly thought himself quite clever. He had turned off the system to Orihime's room twice in the past twenty-four hours, routing the video feed to a prerecorded loop. What his lieutenant did not know was that Aizen had a backup surveillance system installed throughout Las Noches, with automatic feeds going directly to his private quarters, bypassing the main security system.

Aizen watched as Gin played Orihime, with a masterful touch as always. He felt a tinge of pride in his subordinate. The man had learned well how to persuade and manipulate, with exactly the right blend of affability and threats; his timing was perfect, inducing the girl's thoughts to follow the precise path Gin laid out for her. Aizen smiled. It was to be expected. After all, Gin had studied under a master.

He shifted on the couch, propped his chin on his hand as he watched Orihime's eyes grow wide, saw the horror and realization bloom in them. Gin's expression betrayed nothing. He chose the precise moment to open his eyes for maximum impact.

Aizen sighed. Yes, Gin was good. What a pity that it would all be over soon. He would miss the man; miss his subtle wit, his powerful sword, his fine hair and delicate features, his strong, slender body trembling as he writhed under Aizen's touch. In a hundred years, he had been everything Aizen wanted in a subordinate: powerful, beautiful, and deadly. Submissive but with just enough of a hint of rebellion to make him exciting.

He could see it approaching now, the rebellion coming into full bloom; Gin was steeling himself to attack him. He knew Gin had always planned to kill him, but had been waiting for the right moment. A moment Aizen had always deflected, delayed for decades now, whenever he saw Gin attempting to build up his resolve to betray the man he had served for so long, the man he both loved and hated.

But now, Aizen had a new subordinate to groom. One who deserved his full attention. It was time for Gin to fulfill his place in Aizen's plans for evolution to godhood. Perhaps during the upcoming battle, he mused. Just before he actually created the King's Key. For that particular plan to work to transform his essence into the rarefied form required to enter the spirit dimension, he had to be alone; he had to make sure none of his subordinates survived to that stage of the battle. It would require careful timing to goad Gin into trying to kill him at exactly the right moment.

So far, everyone in Soul Society and the human world believed his ruse about using the souls in Karakura Town to make the King's Key. His spies in both worlds were keeping him apprised of the frantic developments as Yamamoto and Urahara and all their minions scrambled to prepare the battle arena. It was quite amusing to watch all the energy and effort they were expending, merely in reaction to his apparent plans. How entertaining it would be when they realized their mistake, finally comprehended that they had once again been outmaneuvered by the man they thought beneath them.

And as for now… Orihime was his already, he could see. Although he had not planned for her to have his child, it fit in perfectly with his schemes. Orihime had been resistant emotionally at first. Although she desired him, it had been against her own will. Now, however, with the child she carried, she had changed. Unwillingly, reluctantly, even with anger at her own feelings, she had fallen for him. He had seen it in her eyes. She was bound to him now, irrevocably bound to care for him and his child. It was in Orihime's very nature to care for others. He had merely to ensure that the only others she cared for in the future were himself and their child.

Like Gin and Momo, she adored him. Also like Gin, but unlike Momo, she understood him in a way that went beyond admiration. She knew all about his darkness, but she still loved him. Thus had he successfully turned her compassion to his service.

But her conscience had so far proven more stubborn than he anticipated. Nevertheless, he was well-versed at destroying consciences, had done so numerous times with subordinates he deemed sufficiently skillful and intelligent to be of use to him. All it took was the appropriate set of tasks, graduated in intensity.

With Tousen Kaname, his first task was murder in service of his own revenge: the man who had killed his own wife and thought he had gotten away with it. Aizen had arranged for Tousen to learn of the man's bragging, then to accomplish the murder with his own hands; he had seen to it that Tousen had time and space to savor the sweetness of the act undisturbed and unpunished.

After that came the murders of the two officials most responsible for allowing the man to go free.

At first, Tousen had balked. But after a few carefully scripted encounters with one official, Tousen had come to Aizen, enraged, demanding the opportunity to kill him. Aizen had played him, let Tousen believe that he needed to be persuaded. It was in the name of justice, Tousen had insisted. Finally, with apparent reluctance, he had agreed to Tousen's request, helped arrange the scene and the resultant cover-up and disposal of the body.

For the second official, he had made sure that the man had time to beg for his life before Tousen killed him, to plead that he had a wife and young children, to cry brokenly as he cowered before Tousen standing over him like an avenging angel. Aizen had watched the scene on video. Tousen had hesitated only a moment before he plunged his zanpakutou into the kneeling man. Aizen had watched Tousen's face carefully. Although it remained mostly impassive, Aizen had seen the twitch of the man's lips. The sign of enjoyment. The sign that his conscience was fading, crippled, nearly gone.

The next killing was on Aizen's orders. Someone whose only crime was to stand in the way of Aizen's plans. And after that, there had been no hesitation. Ever since then, Aizen had seen it. Tousen enjoyed the bloodshed. He still rationalized it to himself as an act of justice, but he derived a dark, hidden pleasure from the vicious strokes of punishment he administered, whether on Aizen's orders or not.

It was a textbook case of so-called cognitive dissonance. Aizen read human texts on psychology avidly, fascinated by the glimpses into the darkness of the human mind they gave him. Because Tousen had agreed to serve Aizen, therefore everything Aizen ordered him to do must be in the service of righteousness. The blood Aizen ordered him to shed was the path of least bloodshed. And as such, it was to be revered as a virtuous knight would enjoy his work. At present, Tousen was more self-righteous than he had ever been— and at the same time utterly subservient to Aizen's every whim and completely unaware of the contradiction.

So would it be with Orihime. He had taken the first step the night before, inducing her to viscerally comprehend that her own pleasure was more important than others' deaths. Having Kurosaki Ichigo to hand to participate in that process was a delightful bonus. The next step… would be to actually have her cause those deaths.

So would her conscience die. As had Tousen's, and then Gin's.

Aizen knew the process worked, knew how it worked intimately. He had applied it first to himself many, many years ago, when he first realized that morals and ethics were only limitations on one's potential. He had chosen to systematically root out that within him which could weaken or limit him.

It had been doubly satisfying because those he had killed had been the ones who had tormented him as a child. Those days, when he was weak and vulnerable, were long gone. Killing, he mused, had a remarkable effect upon the soul.

It had led him to become strong and powerful enough that no one could touch him. It was quite satisfying to be on top of the world, to have no weaknesses, he thought as he watched Gin go through his machinations on the video. No matter how powerful and clever Gin was, he still bent the knee to another. He noted that even though Gin believed the surveillance was off, even as he encouraged Orihime to deceive him, he still called him "Aizen-sama."

Gin's subservience was imprinted too deeply in his bones for him ever to be a very successful traitor. Aizen had set that imprint in him over a hundred years.

He listened further, carefully observing Orihime's face. Could she truly believe that Aizen would think of the child only as a rival? He had to admit, Gin's arguments were devilishly clever. It was true that Aizen had never thought about an heir. He wanted absolute power for himself forever. It was all he had worked for, ever since he had realized how much stronger he was than everyone around him, that he was alone in his power. He had never intended to share with anybody. He needed subordinates to realize his goals, but he would never plan to hand power over to anyone, even his own flesh and blood.

He watched the little drama to its end, then continued to view the screen as Gin left and Orihime stared blankly at the wall. Observing her carefully, he nodded with satisfaction. Although in agony about the choice before her, it was clear what she would do. Gin had misjudged her as well as him. Orihime was too compassionate to take life. At least, in her current state of mind. That could change under Aizen's hands, with time. But right now, there was no way Orihime would ever use her powers to take what she undoubtedly would consider a horrific action.

Even if it meant her friends' deaths. Gin was playing right into his hands again. Orihime preserving her unborn child's life at the cost of her friends' demise? Although originally unplanned, it would be the perfect action for Orihime to be manipulated into at this moment as part of his plan to damage her conscience. She would feel responsible for their deaths, while at the same time realizing that she had put her own child's life above theirs. Another nail in the coffin of her morality.

How delightful. It amused Aizen that so often, events arranged themselves even better than if he had planned them. It was almost as if the universe _wanted_ him to become its god.

This child, for instance. It was the perfect tool for bending Orihime to his will. He would never have thought of it himself, especially when he considered that he had never impregnated anyone before, shinigami, human, or hollow. And he had had a myriad of sexual experiences with all three races. Shinigami propagation was an esoteric branch of lore, of which little was known outside the noble families. Indeed, they were the only ones who regularly married and produced offspring. Commoners had children too, of course, though usually without the blessings of wedlock; however, births were still relatively rare in Soul Society.

There was the additional fillip of this child being a human-shinigami hybrid. As Gin had mentioned, they were powerful beings. The blending of human and shinigami reiatsu could produce extraordinary power. Kurosaki Isshin, as a scion of one of the old noble families, exiled to the world of the living by one of the Central 46's arbitrary decrees, knew this. He also knew the secret lore of the noble families pertaining to the production of offspring. Additionally, there was the secret of Kurosaki Masaki that even Ichigo himself did not know.

Aizen had been interested in Kurosaki Ichigo ever since his birth, and another fact that the brash substitute shinigami did not know was that Aizen had even witnessed his birth on video. He still remembered the dramatic events of that night. A smile came to his lips as he thought of his plans for the youth in the upcoming battle. He had deliberately planned the boy's life so that the half-human would develop his strength at just the right pace, in order that in the end, he could be an agent of Aizen's own evolution. It had been an intriguing challenge, given that Ichigo was being raised by an enemy and ostensibly out of his reach.

How much more could he accomplish if he could mold a soul from birth? He paused, abruptly taken aback by the grandeur of the idea. To shape a powerful soul from its very beginning, to be responsible for all elements of its forming, its education, its growth.

Aizen contemplated what it would mean to have such a soul under his control. He had chosen better than he knew when he chose Orihime to serve at his side. With her compassion and warmth, she would make an excellent mother. She would give his child love, the love Aizen himself had never received as a child. He would not make the mistakes that were made during his own childhood. He would make sure the child was bonded to him, that it would love and obey him.

His eyes narrowed. A soul with his powers— and with Orihime's. He found himself curious as to what would be the result of the genetic cross between his and Orihime's powers. Orihime's abilities were quite unusual, but of course her strength was nothing beside his. But what if the child— _his _child— ended up possessing his strength but Orihime's ability to reject events? How far could such a being go in making or unmaking the world? And what would it take to keep such a being under his control?

Slowly, his lips curled in a dark smile. Indeed, this was the ultimate experiment, more intriguing, more risky, and more potentially rewarding, than any of the countless other human experiments he had conducted.

XxXxXxX

The door to the balcony throne room opened, and Gin slipped in quietly, his immutable smile firmly on his face.

"Yare, yare, Aizen-sama," he drawled as he approached his lord, relaxing in his chair with his chin in his hand. "Ya look like ya gotta lot ta think about."

Aizen lifted his eyes to Gin's, his face expressionless. "Gin. What brings you here?"

"I jus' wanted ta congratulate ya on the good news."

Aizen raised his eyebrows. "Indeed, Gin." His brown eyes passed neutrally over his lieutenant's face. The man was smiling, appearing casual as always, but there was intent buried deep in his reiatsu. He had come here with some plan. Amused, Aizen wondered how his subordinate planned to use the knowledge of his offspring against him.

Gin was jealous, he knew. Despite the fact that Gin told himself that he hated Aizen and was just waiting for the right moment to kill him, and that he only loved Matsumoto… in reality Gin loved Aizen. He could not help himself. Aizen could see his adoration and his desire in his eyes, in his movements, in his utter submission to Aizen's will.

All he needed to do was beckon, and Gin would come to his bed. Willingly and eagerly. Although he would hate himself for betraying Matsumoto. He would despise himself. He would swear vengeance to himself once again. And he would hide everything behind his smile and his slitted eyes. As he had for a hundred years, pretending to be an emotionless snake… until he was gasping with pleasure under Aizen's hands and body.

Aizen smiled. Gin's helpless fury and self-hatred still aroused him after all these years.

There was nothing Gin could do to stop his plans for Orihime from going forward. It did not matter what he said to the girl. Aizen already had her exactly where he wanted her— confused, frightened… but still attracted to him. It pleased him to keep his subordinates off-balance with conflicting emotions. Their insecurity made them so much easier to move in whatever direction he chose.

With Momo it had been unrequited love, admiration set against her own lust; with Gin, jealousy, love and hate. With Tousen, justice and injustice, revenge and satisfaction. And now with Orihime, physical attraction and emotional despair. Toying with people's emotions could be so entertaining. And now here was Gin, come to his hand. He would be yet another source of amusement for Aizen today. He waited to let his subordinate make the next move in another one of their ongoing series of chess games.

"I hear yer gonna be a daddy." Gin's grin was wide.

"So it seems," said Aizen neutrally.

"What d'ya think about that? The great Aizen-sama is going to have an heir."

"Yes, it is an interesting concept, is it not?" Aizen raised an eyebrow, his face placid as always. Gin was scrutinizing him, trying to read his face.

"What are ya going to do with that girl?"

"Well, as she will be the mother of my child, I will continue to keep her under my protection."

"Aizen-sama. Ulquiorra just tol' me this morning that she's refusing to eat. Now that surely ain't good for her health, is it?" Gin cocked his head to one side, his expression casual and uncaring.

Aizen lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Ulquiorra should be able to handle that. It is his job to make sure she stays safe and healthy."

"Wellll," Gin drawled, "I thought ya might wanna take a more _personal _interest in her, now that she's got somethin' of yours."

Aizen smiled. "Don't worry, Gin. I have everything under control." He shifted in the chair and eyed Gin. "Do I sense jealousy in your tone?"

Gin stiffened almost imperceptibly, and then relaxed, forcing himself to remain calm in front of his sometime lover, occasional adversary, and enduring master. "What d'ya mean?"

Aizen flashed him a superior, knowing smile. "She can do something you can never do: give me a child."

Gin raised an eyebrow. "Why, Aizen-sama," he drawled, "I never thought that was somethin' ya wanted."

His ever-present smile did not waver, but Aizen could sense triumph and hatred deeply buried in his reiatsu, could almost hear his thoughts. _He wants the child._ _I can use that against him. What an arrogant, overconfident bastard. He's used me all these years, but now— now I will strike against him._

_Soon, he will die._

Aizen stood up from his throne, slowly walked over to where Gin was standing, a calm smile on his face. He lifted a long-fingered hand to Gin's face, stroked his cheek gently. The man did not flinch. Aizen wrapped one hand around the back of Gin's head, caressed the fine, soft hair, smiling, his eyes focused on his subordinate's expression. Then he drew Gin's lips to his and kissed him slowly and thoroughly.

XxXxXxX

Loly sauntered nonchalantly around the last corner before the video room. Once there, she hissed in delight.

"Menoly!" she whispered. "Look!"

The control room, usually guarded, was deserted. Many of the guards had gone to deal with the surprisingly effective incursion of the humans and shinigami who had come to rescue the girl. Loly grinned viciously. This gave her her chance.

With a quick glance to either side of the corridor, she slipped into the surveillance center, followed by a more nervous Menoly. She rapidly scanned the video feeds until she found the one from Orihime's room. A cruel smirk appeared on her face.

"She's there – our little princess is all alone and unguarded." With a glint in her eye, she reached around the back of the screen and tugged the wires loose. The image dissolved into static. "There. Now there'll be no record of anything we do in that room."

She turned to Menoly, her eyes alight with unholy rage. "Let's go! This is our chance to get our revenge on the little bitch."

Menoly grinned back and the two girls slipped out of the room in the direction of Orihime's chambers.

XxXxXxX

Orihime sat quietly in her room, thinking furiously and with agony. She thought about the new life growing within her. She could not sense it yet, but she knew it was there.

She was too young to have a child. She was only eighteen. Having a child would change her whole life. Having Aizen Sousuke's child… could change much more than that. She realized that part of her was proud to have his child. He excited her, despite who he was. She was drawn to him, although she knew all too well that he had no principles whatsoever. It was completely irrational.

And yet… she pitied him. He had not lied when he said he was alone in Las Noches. He did not have any friends, anyone who truly cared for him.

Orihime had compassion for everyone. It was part of her nature, something she could not change. She had compassion for Aizen despite all of his evil deeds. She was perhaps the only person who could have compassion for such a man. She bowed her head. And there was something more. Despite all he had done, how he had treated her… she realized that she cared for him.

Even, perhaps, loved him.

She could never tell him, because he would only use it against her. And, she thought in despair, it would never be reciprocated.

Yet, she wanted to have his child. Even though she could never trust him, could never count on him. Even though she might have to protect the child from its own father.

She had realized it the night before, when the man she thought was Ichigo burst in on them. She had been ashamed, sorry… but when she said that she had chosen Aizen, it had been the truth. She still loved Ichigo, but it was faded, like an old memory, like an old friendship.

It had been an intense crush, but it was over.

Yet, he was still her close friend and she didn't want him to die. She thought again about what Gin had said. She didn't trust him, but everything he said had been logical. She shuddered. Was it really a choice between her child and her friends?

But if Gin intended her to be forced into using her powers to destroy her child, he was wrong. She could never take a life. She could never unmake a life. There was no way she was going to reject the child.

That meant that she had to figure out a way to preserve her friends' lives. She had to convince them to leave without her. And how could she do that?

The only one who could help her now… was Aizen. And he would do nothing without something in return. But what did she have to give him? What did she know about him? What did he want?

Power.

She would offer to use her abilities to help him. To rebuild the Hougyoku, if that was what he wanted. Her abilities could be of benefit to him, and they would be stronger if she was resolute rather than merely obeying under duress.

She would stay in Las Noches and offer to help him if he would release her friends. And then… she didn't want to think about what would happen next. Her life was truly over. She would remain in this cold and heartless place, the servant of a cold and heartless man. She would bear his child, would care for the child. She would love the child. She would do what she could to love the father, to teach him of love for a child. But she had no illusions about Aizen. Her life would be over as soon as he deemed her no longer useful.

So she would have to be useful. She would have to grow her powers. She would have to become stronger. She clenched her fists within the sleeves of her robe.

There was a rattle and a click at her door, and Orihime turned in surprise, starting to ask Ulquiorra why he had returned so quickly.

But it was not Ulquiorra. Instead, as the door slowly opened, she heard a voice full of malice saying, "Looky looky! Our little princess is all alone."

As she stood to face the door fully, the faces of the two Arrancar who had dressed her and taken her several times to Aizen's quarters became visible around the door jamb. But this time, instead of fear, their reiatsu was suffused with hatred and triumph. As she saw their faces more clearly, the malevolent glee in them shocked her. Were these indeed the same subservient Arrancar she had seen only the day before, bowing to her humbly?

"Orihime-chan," sang out Loly, grinning, "We're gonna have some fun!"


	11. Chapter 11

**The Challenge – Chap. 11**

**A/N:** I knew I had to write a very dark chapter based on the outline that I had written months ago, but ouch, it was difficult to write. It should get better from here on in.

**Warnings:** Dark chapter with mentions of violence and death. This chapter was originally so dark that I could barely write it; I toned it down from the original on the advice of some very helpful readers.

(Originally posted 6/11/2011.)

XxXxXxX

The black-haired girl swung into the room, laughing viciously. "Hime-chan… let's plaaaay," she taunted, circling her prey with narrowed eyes. The blonde followed her, carefully closing the door behind her, folding her arms with a scowl as she stood with her back to the door.

Orihime backed up against the bed. Why were the two girls here? Had Aizen sent them? Or… Her heart chilled… had he manipulated them into coming here? It was impossible that anything went on in Las Noches without his knowledge. Perhaps his second-in-command was powerful enough to hide the truth from him, but surely these Arrancar could not. What did he want them to do? Orihime stared at Loly, who was leering at her now, her one visible eye twitching in furious glee. She could see the hatred in the girl's eye, the burning jealousy. Loly loved Aizen; Orihime could see it. She loved him with a fury that had no outlet, for the man would only use her and discard her.

All Orihime could feel was pity and not fear. This girl was like her. Could she be like this one day, consumed with hatred and fear, driven and twisted by a love which would never be reciprocated, casually manipulated by Aizen to serve his own purposes?

Ferociously, Loly punched her in the face. Orihime did not fight back. How could she? It would be like attacking her own soul. Her passivity only enraged Loly, who grabbed up one of the lamp stands and threw it at her with a force borne of fury, the fury of a woman scorned. Orihime stumbled backwards with the force of the impact, fell to the floor. She felt a profound pain inside her belly, and her heart clenched in sudden realization. A beating could cause a miscarriage. Was this how Aizen was going to deal with the inconvenience of a child? By manipulating these Arrancar into beating her up? This way, he would not have to explain to her why she should get an abortion, why he did not want an heir, a rival. He would appear blameless. Her heart chilled further. It was the way he operated.

Gin's words echoed in her mind. _"Do I need to tell you how Aizen Sousuke treats rivals?"_

Loly grinned and dug her fingers cruelly into the top of Orihime's head, hoisting her up by her hair. Orihime stared at her, her eyes intense. Loly was as much a victim as she was, a victim of Aizen's machinations. As they all were. Pity bloomed in her heart as she gazed levelly at the black-haired Arrancar.

Loly's grin turned to a frown and something flared in her eyes. "You…" she gasped. Then she drew back her left fist and punched Orihime even more viciously in the face. "What's with that look on your face?"

"Hey," cautioned Menoly. "You should be a little quieter—" she said, looking anxiously at the door.

"Shut the hell up," screeched Loly. She stopped for a moment, panting, as she stared at Orihime. "I know! I'm going to pull out all your fingernails, one by one."

Suddenly, there was an earsplitting crash and the door exploded inward. The impact of the blast knocked the three of them back from the door.

"Wha—" gasped Menoly. They both turned to look at the smoke and dust gradually settling from the explosion at the door as a figure became visible.

Orihime looked up as well through eyes watering with pain.

It was Grimmjow.

XxXxXxX

In the dimness of his bedroom, on his large, luxurious bed, Aizen stretched with satisfaction as he unwound his limbs from his lieutenant's. He moved to the edge of the bed, slid his legs out from under the covers, and wrapped himself in a white silk robe. He glanced briefly back at the man lying asleep in his bed, a few strands of silver hair still visible above the covers.

It had been… disappointing. He was surprised, for Gin had been as inventive and playful as ever, as outwardly submissive and inwardly furious as usual. Yet somehow… something had been missing. Aizen frowned thoughtfully. For some reason, his thoughts had kept turning back to the night before, to when he had run his hands through long, thick, auburn hair rather than fine silver hair, had stroked the softness of well-developed breasts rather than the elegant, slim figure beneath him. He had found himself distracted. And it was not like him to dwell upon past lovers.

Musing, he slowly dressed. Could this atypical reaction be due to the fact that she now carried his offspring? Or… was it something else? He pictured her face in his mind and felt himself smiling at the image of her wide grey eyes suffused with hesitancy, her lush mouth half-open after a kiss. She was beautiful, he thought. A delight to look at. And powerful. Unique. A marvelous possession.

Something twinged inside him.

He probed his own mind carefully. It could surely not be… feelings. He laughed to himself shortly. No, that was not possible. He merely was attentive to her now that she was carrying his latest experiment. It was purely a scientific interest he had in her, a natural one, since he had decided it would be an important experiment.

He put thoughts of her aside as he climbed the stairs to his reiatsu-shielded workroom. He had much to do. The final preparations for his war against Soul Society were about to be begun.

XxXxXxX

Once in his workroom, he locked the door and renewed the shielding spells before settling down to work. From a hidden compartment in the floor, he drew out a heavily shielded container and placed it on the center of the desk in front of him. He felt once more the gush of heavy, pleasurable anticipation as he slowly whispered the unlocking spells and the lid opened.

The room was at once awash in a dense, alien reiatsu. Within its cushioned lair, the Hougyoku glittered at him and his heart pounded with excitement as he gazed once more at the jewel he had sought for so long, for which he had paid such a heavy price. Soon his preparations would be complete. The complex structure of spells to subdue the Hougyoku and enable it to merge seamlessly and permanently with his own body… giving him, at last, all he desired. Immortality… and soon, absolute power. Power such that no one would stand above him. His eyes gleamed with dark anticipation.

He set the jewel to one side as he began weaving the next, intricate set of spells. There was absolute silence in the large, elegantly appointed room as he worked.

But then, as he was delicately adjusting a complicated reiatsu structure surrounding the Hougyoku, he sensed an improper alignment. Annoyed, he narrowed his eyes, focused on the problem. As he concentrated, he realized that he had skipped a step and built the spiritual edifice incorrectly. Abruptly, he made a gesture with his hand and collapsed the entire structure.

It winked into nothingness as he sat there, breathing heavily.

He was annoyed. It was not like him to lose focus like this. Sighing, he began to build up the foundations a second time. But once again, he found himself unable to concentrate on the set of spells he was crafting.

He sighed once more. Instead of continuing to work, he rested his chin in his hand and contemplated the endless desert beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows in the tower room, musing. It seemed he was far too distracted with this new development, Orihime's pregnancy with his child. There were so many interesting possibilities to consider. It was too bad that his other plans were almost coming to fruition. He would have liked to have more time to contemplate before the action began.

But still— how remarkable it was, to consider this new life. Could it indeed be a threat to him? His eyes narrowed. He would have control over the child during its formative years. That would surely be enough to weave sufficient spells into its being that would prevent it from turning on him. Although… it might be amusing to see if the child would challenge him. Such fascinating possibilities.

It made him wonder, once again, about his own origins, what he himself could have become with a different upbringing. He wondered… would he have been as powerful? Or as alone? For the first time in over a hundred years, he found himself speculating about his own childhood, about the forces that had shaped him into the man he was today. As far back as he could remember, no one had cared for him; he had been on his own.

He had never known his father, but his mother had never hesitated to slap him around, to beat him if he didn't bring home enough money or food on his daily outings as a beggar and thief. There had been many men, as well, who passed through their slovenly hut, most of whom had beaten the young boy too. He was too small to fight back, and his weakness infuriated him. He hated seeing his mother cower and whimper in fear, and he swore he would never be like that. Instead, he schooled his face to calmness, learned to hide his fear. He learned to hide himself, so that often he passed notice. He would watch from hiding as the men beat his mother and did other things to her.

One man had been particularly brutal. He had scraggly, greasy blond hair hanging around a jowly face, piggish eyes, and a cruel, snaggle-toothed grin. He reeked of cheap booze, ripe sweat, with an underlying odor of something foul, perhaps human excrement. The entire room began to stink as soon as he entered it. As the woman cowered in the corner, trembling, begging for mercy, he smashed his fist into her face. The boy shivered. He didn't want to watch this time, but he was trapped in the back room and unable to flee. He had no choice but to watch the horror unfolding before him. All he could do was keep quiet.

She gave a shrill screech of pain and raised her dirty hand to her nose, which was now gushing blood. The man laughed and punched her again in the mouth. This time the boy saw her spit out a couple of teeth, some of the few she had left. She began to cry, miserably and hopelessly.

"So, bitch, are ya gonna put out?"

Still crying, the woman nodded.

"Take off yer clothes."

She slowly reached a hand to her dirty blouse, began to unbutton it. Hissing with impatience, the man stood over her, then ripped her last good shirt off her. He repeated the process with her skirt, sniggering. The boy watched as the man threw his mother down on the straw mattress, sneering. Her body was misshapen, wrinkled, scarred and stained. The boy had not seen her like this recently; he hadn't realized she was so old… so used-up.

The man pushed his filthy robes aside and approached her. Then he stopped, snorted. "Turn around, bitch. On yer hands and knees."

The woman hesitated, then obeyed. The man knelt behind her and the boy could not see what was happening.

The woman shrieked in pain. "No!" she cried. She began sobbing again. The man grunted rhythmically, ignoring her cries and feeble resistance.

The boy watched in terrified fascination until finally the man slumped over the sobbing woman. He lay there a few moments, breathing heavily. For good measure, as he got up, he hit her again. "Lousy slut." He got up, pulling his clothes back into position.

The woman continued to sob softly, lying on the dirty mattress.

The boy could no longer stand it. He had no love for his mother, but this callous treatment of another human being was more than he could tolerate. He clenched his fists in anger and came out of hiding, not really knowing what he was going to do; only knowing he was furious, that no one should treat another person like that, even if she was just a cheap whore.

The man's eye lit upon the boy, and a savage grin split his face. "Hey, who're you?" he asked. "Oh well, don't matter," he continued. "She wasn't good enough, so mebbe you'll be."

He approached, grinning, and then grabbed the boy around the waist and lifted him effortlessly in the air as the small limbs flailed. He slammed him down on his back on the hard dirt floor; the boy's head banged so hard against the ground that lights flashed in his vision and he was momentarily dizzy. Then he realized the man had torn off his shirt and pants. The odor coming off of him was suddenly overwhelming. The boy flailed and fought as hard as he could, but he was small and weak. His face burned with shame at his weakness. The man didn't bother with the bed this time; panting, he rolled the naked boy over on his stomach on the dirt floor. The intense pain of it shocked the boy and he screamed.

The boy sobbed, openly now, his face smashed hard into the dirt floor, as the man assaulted him. He had given up on pride, given up on silence. He felt a deep, staggering shame that was even worse than the horrible pain. He had been soiled forever. He had been helpless, had been used; he had been a powerless _thing_ at another human's mercy.

As the man swaggered out of the hut, the boy lay on the floor, unmoving, for a long time. Then he slowly pushed his brutalized body up to hands and knees. The shame in his mind was gradually turning into something darker, into anger and hatred, hatred that seemed too big to be contained in his small body. And there, in the dark, bloody room, he swore revenge. He swore to himself he would never be weak again, that he would do everything, anything to become strong, stronger than everyone else. He would never be under anyone's control, ever again.

XxXxXxX

Soon after that, he had begun to realize his spiritual power. He had known, even then, what it meant, and he had rejoiced. He had poured everything into developing his abilities, had sought out knowledge with ferocity, had bullied or cajoled others into teaching him a spell here, a binding there.

Then one day, a traveler had come to town. The boy watched from the shadows of a nearby building as the broken-down horse pulled a covered wagon into the marketplace. The wagon stopped at the edge of the main square, and a skinny scarecrow of an old man clambered down from the driver's seat. The boy remembered the man from the past year. People whispered things about him; they said he had power; that he had secrets that he could be persuaded to part with— for a price.

As the man busied himself with tying his horse to a hitching post and puttering around his wagon, the boy approached him.

"I hear they say you're a wizard," he said.

The old man turned. He saw a slender boy with thick brown hair hanging over dark, intelligent eyes; with pale, smooth skin and elegant features. The man's eyes narrowed, and his glance flicked up and down the boy's slim body, noted the unconscious grace with which the boy lifted a hand, brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. His eyes became calculating as he took in the boy's shabby clothes, the mark of a powerless denizen of the Rukongai.

"What of it?" he asked, his eyes darting left to right, along the street, to see who might be watching. His voice was high-pitched, with a slight whine to it.

"They say you sometimes teach others wizardry."

The man wrapped the leather reins twice around the iron post. "Not just anyone can learn those skills. You have to have innate power." His eyes flicked back to the boy's. The boy's face was calm; the man could not read anything in it. He extended his senses. The boy appeared to have negligible reiatsu; useless to him, then. At least as an apprentice. However, there were other uses to which young boys could be put. A predatory gleam shone briefly in his eyes and was extinguished.

The boy said nothing in response, but turned one elegant hand palm upwards. A moment later, a small sphere of brilliant light blossomed in the heart of his palm.

The man raised his ragged eyebrows. The edges of the sphere were remarkably sharp and well-defined. It was rare that he saw such tight control in one so young. And now he could feel the boy's reiatsu, clearly untrained, but heavy with potential. He looked around nervously for watchers. What he was about to do was officially illegal; all training of those with spiritual power was supposed to be done at the Shinigami Academy, and the shinigami did not take well to those who tried to break their monopoly on power.

He jerked his head at his wagon. "Let's go inside and talk."

Once they were both settled on the narrow bench under the taut canvas, the man eyed the boy again. "So what do you want to know?"

"Everything," the boy said. "The secret roads to power. Both the light and the dark." His eyes narrowed. "They say you can go beyond what they'll teach in the Shinigami Academy."

The man cackled and leaned back on the bench, his expression calculating. "They say true. I can teach you all you've heard of and more. But the price of these secret teachings is high. How much money do you have?"

"Enough," said the boy with bravado. "Name your price."

The man snickered, then said a figure that he knew was out of reach for anyone who lived in the Rukongai, and saw the boy's eyes flare briefly with anger. "That's far more than I heard you were charging last year."

The man shrugged. "The market was different last year." He paused and looked at the boy again, and a note of greed entered his voice. "But— I might be persuaded to take payment in trade. In labor… or in other forms of payment."

He waited.

The boy considered, those dark, liquid eyes fixed on his own. "You'd want me to work for you? As an apprentice?"

"Yes." He slid closer to the boy on the bench and lowered his voice. He leaned forward, his face inches from the boy's; his nostrils flared at the man's proximity but he stood his ground. "The darkest secrets of power are not easy to come by, but the rewards are vast." He placed a bony hand on the boy's thigh, stroked gently. "You're a lovely young thing. I'm sure we could work something out." His eyes lit lasciviously.

But the boy drew back, his reiatsu flaring almost uncontrollably. His eyes burned with anger, and the air almost seemed to crackle with the force of his untrained power. No. He would never allow anyone to violate his body again, not for any price. The man glared at him and raised his own reiatsu. The boy could feel the energy surrounding him, could sense the control the other man had that he lacked. Once again, he was going to be powerless under another's hands. Furious, he lashed out with raw power, unsure of how to direct it, the only guidance his ferocious _will _that he would never be used again. He would fight back against the other with every drop of his resolve. He prepared himself for the counterattack he knew would come, his eyes narrowed, his mouth grim.

But instead, the man's eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed, half-sliding off the bench. Startled, the boy jumped up, half-expecting this to be a feint, for the man to strike back as soon as he let his guard down. He stood looking down at the man, his nostrils still flaring from the stench of rotting meat from the old man's breath.

There was silence in the close, dim wagon. The man did not move. His reiatsu was abruptly gone as though it had been snuffed out.

After a moment, the boy went over to him, reached out a tentative hand, placed it on the old man's chest. There was no movement.

The boy had seen enough death to realize what had happened. His heart began to pound; he drew back from the body in dread. His eyes flicked to the entrance flap. With the beginnings of panic, his first urge was to run, flee blindly.

But even as he began to rise, a calmness came over him, the coolness under pressure that would later become his greatest asset. He stopped, considered. Others had seen him enter the wagon; the authorities would hold him responsible if the man's body was found. The man, though unsavory, was still of higher status than a penniless beggar from Inuzuri. He would be charged with murder, and would be hanged. He had seen other street kids put to death for lesser crimes.

Coolly, he pondered various courses of action. Then he rose, jumped lightly down from the wagon. Calmly, he unwound the reins from the iron rail, backed the horse into the main road. A few people were scurrying along the street, but nobody paid attention to him. Then he climbed nimbly up onto the driver's seat and flicked the reins as he had seen others do. Slowly, the old horse began a steady walk forward, heading toward the main road leading out of town.

Once in the forest just beyond the outskirts of the village, he turned down an overgrown path, drove along it for many minutes, the horse clopping steadily on the hard-beaten earth. The silence around him was nearly complete other than the sounds of the wagon creaking and the horse's hooves and occasional snorts. He glanced down at the ground; it was dry and hard from lack of rain and would not take tracks. When he had deemed himself sufficiently deep in the forest, he stopped and untied the horse from its traces, flicked its back again to get it to leave. It eyed him placidly, and then began to slowly walk away, back in the direction of the village. He watched it walk out of sight among the trees. When the clearing was empty, he returned to the wagon.

He stopped just inside the flap, his heart beating fast again as his eyes fell on the body of the old man. He forced himself to look away. Surely the old man had a hidden stash somewhere; money, magical tools. He began to systematically ransack the wagon, ignoring the corpse.

But after a good fifteen minutes he had found little, and was about to turn away in disgust, when he stumbled upon a hidden compartment under one of the rugs thrown down over the wooden floor. Heart pounding now in eagerness, he opened it. Inside was a stained calfskin pouch, and beneath it, what he realized was a dog-eared book. The boy knew what books were, and had even learned some katakana and simple kanji earlier, but he had never read a text, had never held a book in his hands. He hefted the calfskin pouch first, and smiled when he heard the clink of coins. Then he set the pouch down and picked up the book. He held the tattered volume in his hands with reverence, opened it.

Inside, on the frontispiece, he could make out the kanji for kidou. The demon arts. Magic. There, in his hands, in dense print, were lines and lines of secrets, unknown wealth far greater than anything else the old man possessed. Far more than anything the boy had ever seen. He recognized instantly that this was the key to his future. He glanced back at the corpse, slumped there in the corner of the wagon where he had hoped to lure a young boy to be his plaything. He felt a strong emotion rise up in his chest, choke him: guilt. Guilt at taking a life.

Looking back on it, Aizen was angry. He had been weak and pathetic then. Why should someone such as himself feel guilt at ridding the world of such a pustulent boil on the surface of the earth?

He had scurried away from the decrepit wagon, checking carefully to make sure he was not witnessed. The wagon was deep in the forest. He knew it would take a long time to find; and by the time it was discovered, no one would care or investigate the man's death. Clutching his precious book underneath his shabby clothes, he ran off silently, heading to an isolated clearing in the forest to examine his prize more closely.

Over the next few days and then weeks, as he puzzled out the closely-written text and began to experiment, his power grew by leaps and bounds. First he tested it out on inanimate objects, on rocks and sticks scavenged from the forest floor. Then, eager to see the results of his power on living beings, he captured small forest animals and tried out his new abilities on them.

Soon, he grew eager for revenge against humans. For his first experiment, he selected the man who had so brutalized his mother and himself only a few months ago.

Aizen still remembered his grim satisfaction as he ambushed the man and knocked him out easily with a kidou spell. He used his power to transport the man back to his mother's hut, where she slept in a drunken stupor from the cheap booze her son had thoughtfully provided her with the night before. There, he began to investigate the many ways he could use reiatsu against a human body.

It was his first lesson in the advantages of fine control of power. At first, he had been clumsy. His power was great, but it had been undisciplined, raw. His victim had died too quickly. His mutilated, bloody body had lain there on the dirt floor of his mother's hut, eyes staring in blank horror up at the agitated boy.

Aizen had had to go to the outhouse to throw up. He had cursed himself as a weakling. Then he went back to the hut and used one of the more advanced destructive spells to incinerate the man's body as his mother snored on. His heart was beating fast, but he was triumphant.

Later that night, in the village square, he had heard a couple of the villagers wondering where the other man had gone, and his heart had pounded at first with fear, but was soon replaced by a new emotion: pleasure. He felt replete with his delicious, forbidden secret.

After that, he had chosen to experiment with the village men, one by one, who had once beaten him. As his power developed, he grew more adept at using his energy to control others, to cause pain, to slowly destroy each of his enemies.

And with each experiment, he felt less and less emotion. Fear, compassion, guilt faded. He only felt dark satisfaction and amusement as his victims cowered in fear before him. His limitations fell away from him as his power grew.

The villagers grew afraid, terrified of the killings and disappearances in their midst. No one in authority cared about the deaths of Rukongai denizens; there was never any investigation from the powerful shinigami who ruled the world.

It was rumored that hollows in the area were responsible; hollows were always blamed for these types of events. The boy merely found that a convenient excuse. He himself had come across a hollow once; it had been a weak, pitiful thing. He had been afraid at first, due to all the terrifying stories that circulated in the village. But he had stood his ground and launched a low-level destructive kidou at it, and to his surprise, it had been destroyed in a flash.

It was the first time he had begun to realize how powerful he might become. Even as a child, a novice in the uses of power, he could easily vanquish one of the greatly feared monsters of his world. In that moment, he realized he need no longer fear anything.

He mostly ignored his mother now. She no longer dared touch him, already sensing something different and fearsome about him. He walked around the village now and took what he wanted. The villagers muttered, but they were afraid of the darkness they saw in the boy's eyes, and they allowed him to take food and clothing as he wished.

He did not know exactly how old he was, but he knew his body looked about nine years old. When he saw the village men whispering about him, and heard with his kidou-enhanced hearing that a group of them were planning to ambush him in his mother's hut that night, he decided it was time to leave.

He gathered up his small store of possessions, including his precious book, and left that night without saying goodbye to anyone.

He had decided to become a shinigami.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Challenge – Chap. 12**

**A/N:** New plot developments in this chapter! **Warnings:** Violence, and a great deal of angst on Orihime's part. This chapter is not as dark as the previous one, but it is sad. There's a reason I've been so slow with recent chapters for this story. But now that I've gotten through this section, the rest should go more easily. I hope.

(Originally posted 7/6/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Grimmjow stood in the rubble of the doorway, his eyes taking in the two cowering Arrancar and the auburn-haired girl lying on the ground, her face bruised and bleeding, her clothing torn. The human girl looked pathetic, her face a mess, her eyes wide and anguished. Menoly looked sullenly guilty, and Loly, the bitch, just looked hostile. It was clear what had gone on here. "Yo," he remarked with a savage grin, "Scampering in here to have some fun while Ulquiorra's gone, are we?"

Loly remained stock-still, her hand still clenched in Orihime's hair, and glared furiously at Grimmjow. "Just what the hell are you doing here?"

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed. No way was some low-level Arrancar slut going to talk that way to him. In a flash, he casually kicked her in the midriff so hard that she dropped Orihime and smashed against the opposite wall. Orihime gasped in dismay, while Menoly cried out in anger and rushed the Espada, her fist outstretched. Grimmjow yawned as he caught Menoly's fist in his hand. Then, leaving one hand in his pocket, he fired a cero point-blank at Menoly, grinning with satisfaction as half her body was blown away. He turned back to look at Orihime, his face darkening as he scrutinized hers and noted the swollen and blackened eye, the bruising and scratching on her cheeks and mouth. He relaxed, took a step backwards, and looked down at Loly, both hands in his pockets, an expression of arrogant disgust on his face.

Loly dragged herself forward on hands and knees toward Grimmjow, coughing and spitting out blood. Her face was still defiant. "You bastard. Aizen-sama won't stand for you doing this stuff to us, you know."

The blue-haired Espada's eyes narrowed once again. She still hadn't learned her lesson. This time he bent down and grabbed Loly's ankle as the Arrancar looked on in puzzlement. He placed one foot on her knee, grinning, and waited for her to realize what he was about to do.

"Hey!" she screeched. "No! Stop! I promise I won't tell if you stop!"

Grimmjow relaxed slightly as though he were going to let her up. Then he grinned again and the sound of her bone snapping echoed throughout the room. Loly shrieked in agony, then gasped out, "You bastard. You're gonna get killed by Aizen-sama!" She collapsed on the floor and began sobbing brokenly.

Grimmjow shrugged. He hadn't even broken a sweat. "Dipshit," he said scornfully. "As if Aizen-sama gives a fuck for you two shitheads." Turning away, he looked at Orihime with an odd expression on his face.

She returned the gaze of her unlikely rescuer, her heart still pounding, her face throbbing with pain in counterpoint to the agonizing contractions deep within her belly. She was still in shock at the casual violence she had just witnessed, at the sudden loss of reiatsu within her body. No. Her child couldn't be gone. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be over, just like that, so suddenly. But her eyes suddenly overflowed with tears as she realized that indeed it could be true. The loss hit her again with agonizing force. Her child— and Aizen's— was gone.

What game was Aizen playing, that he would send the two Arrancar to beat her up, destroy his own child, and then send Grimmjow here just when it was too late, to kill the two women responsible? Was he trying to eliminate them so she wouldn't learn that he was responsible? Her head spun and she felt dizzy with pain. What was this place like, where torture and murder were dealt out so casually? What had she been thinking, to even consider that she might love Aizen, the lord and ruler of this place of horror? The word came out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Why?"

Grimmjow misunderstood, whether deliberately or not, she didn't know. "To repay you for my left arm," he said.

"Uh," said Orihime, taken aback by the conviction in the reply. Grimmjow, she realized in astonishment, actually thought he was trying to help her, to do her a kindness. She had thought that he was only a mindless killer, but perhaps he had a code of honor… unlike Aizen, she thought bitterly. So Grimmjow hadn't come here on Aizen's orders. Although— he could have been tricked or manipulated into coming here. She wouldn't put it past Aizen.

She could see that Grimmjow was furious at himself, at admitting what he thought was weakness. She supposed that was what kindness or repayment of debts would be thought as, here in Las Noches. Weakness. She bit her lip.

But before she could say anything more, Grimmjow had taken her by the throat in an iron grip and hoisted her into the air. On his face once more was the maniacal grin. "But don't be naïve," he said. "Don't think I came here just to save you." He gave a harsh laugh. "Now. My debt to you has been repaid, and I need you for something, so you're coming with me." He hauled her upright. "But first, fix your face. I don't walk around carting women with bruised faces."

Orihime stared at him, still stunned. She could hear Loly's broken sobbing, could smell the blood leaking out from the remains of Menoly's body. No. She was going to fight back the only way she knew how, with the power that Aizen himself had said rivaled that of a god. She spun around and stumbled to the floor beside Loly, ignoring Grimmjow's shout. Without a word, she brought her healing shield into existence over Loly. The woman gasped and spat at her. "Get away from me!"

But Orihime ignored her. She would not allow Aizen to win, to casually destroy even the lives of his own creations. She would defeat him. She watched as Loly's broken bones knit together again, as her bloodied face cleared up and healed. It was easy, the work of a moment, and she felt a savage triumph as Loly gasped and put a hand up to her own face almost in horror.

Then once again Orihime spun around, this time to face Menoly's broken body. She heard Loly's dismayed cry as though from a very great distance.

She stared at the figure before her. Half her body was gone. What was left of her face stared lifelessly up into space. She was clearly dead. Completely gone. Orihime sucked in her breath. What she was thinking of doing was not possible. It was not something that could be done in this world. Only gods had the power of life and death.

But… she thought in a corner of her mind as her healing shield sprang into existence over Menoly's body, more brilliant than she had ever seen it… if she could bring Menoly back to life, maybe, just maybe, she could bring another being back to life. One hand fell to her own belly, stroked the skin above the area that suddenly felt so empty. With fury and agony she guided her fairies to reject Menoly's death, feeling Grimmjow's heavy reiatsu in the wounds... but, swamped as she was with ferocious emotion, somehow the task seemed much lighter than she would have expected. She felt nothing as the miracle happened before her, as Menoly's broken body reappeared under her shield. She felt nothing as she felt both Loly and Grimmjow recoil, as Loly cried in horror, "What the hell is she? She's a… monster!"

Orihime turned away, spent, as Menoly stirred and took a shuddering breath. She had done it. What was she, truly? She raised the healing shield a third time, this time over her own body. She felt the bruises and swelling on her face vanish into nothingness. A trivial healing. She directed the energies lower down, over her own belly, and focused her concentration fiercely once again.

But where the procedure, though difficult, had seemed obvious to her when she worked on Menoly, now she felt as though there was nothing to focus her energy on. The tiny mote of life within was simply gone. There was nothing for her to grasp, to pull back into being. In a distant corner of her mind, it occurred to her that she could not restore what had never truly been. The tiny spark of life had been too new, too unformed.

It had never had a chance, she thought, being born of a man who destroyed all he touched.

Abruptly, her shield collapsed, and she fell to the floor, boneless and utterly spent, crying bitterly for all she had lost: Her child—her daughter, she realized—and above all, her love for a man who turned out to be a shadow, an illusion, a chimera. A man who would kill his own child.

As Grimmjow picked her up roughly and bound her wrists with kido, then gagged her, she did not resist. She followed him meekly through the endless white halls of Las Noches, feeling as though she were bleeding internally, as though her will and her love and her life were bleeding out through her broken womb, her broken heart.

XxXxXxX

Aizen gazed out the window of his reiatsu-shielded workroom. The endless desert, pure, white, and glowing, stretched out to the horizon under the unchanging night sky. Aizen breathed in deeply and let his gaze reach out to the far horizon. It was a peaceful and soothing vista, untainted by the petty strivings of human souls. The purity of perfection… one of the few things that could bring him solace. He had arranged this world the way he wanted it. Soon, he thought, all the worlds would move according to his will.

But instead of that thought goading him to further effort, narrowing his focus to the one single goal he had tracked relentlessly for so long… instead, his mind was jumping about, speculating about the future, lingering over the past, revisiting long-forgotten memories from his childhood… and completely distracting him from his work with the Hougyoku. Oddly, it was actually pleasurable to contemplate the thought of having offspring, to imagine his life with Orihime at his side. He found himself wondering what it would take to bring a smile to her face. She would be even hungrier than usual with a new life growing within her, he mused, and a smile tugged at his own lips. He had never seen a human with an appetite like hers. It was… enjoyable… to have new and ever more elaborate meals prepared for her, to see her eyes widen with amazed delight. He wondered once again how his life would play out with Orihime at his side. His lips quirked in wry amusement. He had lied to her earlier about making her his queen, seeking only to play on her ego and manipulate her, but now he realized that if he wanted to give his child legitimacy, he would have to formalize his attachment to Orihime. How ironic. It had never occurred to him that he would want to elevate anyone to his side, much less a human girl barely into adulthood. But now, it seemed that his lies were going to become truth.

How… entertaining. The thought of Orihime on the throne beside him gave him a peculiar feeling of pride. He stood and paced to the end of the chamber, turned around, still deep in thought. Again, he wondered at the strange thoughts going on in his mind. He had always believed he preferred solitude to companionship. Could that be changing? Or had he always sought companionship but had never admitted it to himself?

He had always been something of an introvert, most at peace when he was by himself, preferring to watch others rather than push himself forward. It was far better to keep his own counsel, to avoid reliance on others, who tended to be fallible. Who tended to disappoint him.

He sighed, and then turned back to his desk to put the Hougyoku away. He would work on the spell later. Right now… he wanted to check up on Orihime. Just to make sure his offspring was all right, he told himself.

He unlocked the door and felt the shielding on his workroom fade away, and paused for a moment, his senses extended. Gin had left the bedroom downstairs and was in the main surveillance center. He reached out further. There were heavy reiatsu disturbances in various areas of his domain. Frowning slightly, he keyed open the control panel for his private surveillance system and activated it in scanning mode. He called up the feed of Orihime's room, and was disturbed to see only static. His eyes narrowed as he reached out to try to locate Orihime's reiatsu.

She was not in her room. He closed his eyes to pinpoint her energy, which seemed to be at a low ebb. She was outside the building, under the central dome. Her reiatsu was almost masked by that of other powerful fighters. Aizen frowned, detecting Ichigo and Grimmjow near her. Where was Ulquiorra, whom he had set to guard her?

Annoyed, he signaled Gin to attend him in his receiving chamber. It looked like his most rebellious Espada had disobeyed him once again and had gone to engage the intruders… and what's more, somehow one of them had drawn Orihime into danger. Normally, it didn't matter to him if his Espada fought with each other. It only made them stronger, and weeded out the weak. But now… things seemed to be different. For the first time, he had something… someone… he wanted protected.

XxXxXxX

Orihime gasped as Grimmjow shoved her and she fell to her knees in front of Ichigo's nearly lifeless body. They were outside of the palace and once more under that painted blue sky and brilliant sun. All around them were vast chunks of rubble, as though a battle of giants had taken place here. Ichigo was lying in front of her, on one of the concrete ramparts, battered and bloodied, and there was a huge hole in his chest, as though his heart had been physically gouged out of his body.

With a rough gesture, Grimmjow unbound her. "There," he said, seating himself on one of the chunks of rubble. "Fix him."

She looked down at him. "Kurosaki-kun?" she whispered. His eyes were open and staring, but unseeing. He made no response. She could barely feel his reiatsu.

She felt a great emptiness inside her as she raised her healing shield and tried to focus. There was an incredibly strong reiatsu swirling around and shrouding Ichigo's wounds. She felt weak. She couldn't reject it. More destruction and death, she thought bitterly. She couldn't help wondering if this was Aizen's work. His reiatsu was more powerful than any she had felt before; could he have destroyed her childhood friend simply on a whim?

She half-turned to Grimmjow. "Who— who could have done such a thing?" she whispered, not really wanting to hear the answer.

The blue-haired Espada snorted. "Ulquiorra."

Orihime's eyes widened. She stared down at the wounds on Ichigo's body, unable to believe that the dispassionate man could have exerted such brutal violence on anyone. But of course, it was at Aizen's orders, she realized, and her heart hardened further.

Grimmjow grunted at her look of surprise. "That's his trademark. I don't know if he himself realizes it, but when he finds prey that appeals to him, he gouges a hole in them in the same place as his own." He snarled. "I'll show him what he'll get for messing around with someone else's prey." He glared at Orihime. "Hurry up and heal him so I can settle the score with him at his full strength."

Orihime stared at him, her mouth falling open in shock. "You mean you made me heal him just so you could kill him again?" What was wrong with all these people, she thought. What made them so bloodthirsty and cruel?

The answer was in her head before she even finished the question.

Aizen. Aizen had created the Espada, had designed them to be bloodthirsty killing machines. His personal army to destroy Soul Society. Looking down at Ichigo under her healing shield, she felt a wave of ferocious guilt pass through her. She had actually slept with the man, had deluded herself she loved him. The secret fear that she always lived with rose up and grabbed her by the throat. She was a whore just like her mother, she thought, and felt shame flood her entire body.

The Espada stood up suddenly and towered over her, fist clenched. "I told you to shut the hell up! I let you bring him back from the brink of death, so quit your goddamn bitching! Sooner or later, Ulquiorra's gonna wise up and come back!"

There was a crash from behind him as someone blasted a hole in the wall. "Did you call for me?" asked the black-haired Espada in a toneless voice.

Orihime closed her eyes and sagged as her healing shield faded. Whatever resolve she had once had was completely gone. What did it matter if she was about to be thrown into the center of a three-way battle? She had already lost everything that could have made a difference.

XxXxXxX

**A/N: **I should point out that this story is going through a dark period, but it will not always be so dark.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Challenge – Chap. 13**

**A/N:** I've been having difficulty with this chapter because I wanted to follow canon, but I didn't want to go through all the details of all the fights Ichigo had during Orihime's rescue, especially because I wanted to focus on Aizen and Orihime's thoughts rather than detailing all those other events. So I finally decided simply to compress those scenes here.

Thus, I'm afraid this chapter suffers from some of the issues that reviewers pointed out about the previous one—because I decided to conform to canon at this point, Orihime really is in the depths of hopelessness and passivity. She's not the feisty, badass!Hime we all know and love.

But remember, she just lost her child here. I don't think she can be blamed for acting passive and helpless. She'll make a comeback later.

And I try to show more of the characters' inner feelings during the canon scenes to make up for cleaving so closely to the Bleach storyline which you all already know. I hope that makes these scenes more interesting.

Part of why I am conforming so meticulously to canon now is because this was the germ of inspiration for my story. I have long wondered why Orihime acted the way she did during these scenes in canon, and why Aizen acted the way he did. Why did he go to all the trouble of having her brought back to him, comparing her to the sun, telling her she needed to smile… if she was truly nothing more than bait to lure the shinigami captains to Hueco Mundo?

This is one possibility that I thought made sense. So I wrote my whole story around these scenes.

Since Aizen and Orihime don't meet again in canon after chapter 314, I will then be free to take my story line in any direction I choose (at last!).

Sorry for the long author's note!

**Warning:** angst.

(Originally posted 8/4/11.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime stood passively in the blond Arrancar's grasp, watching Ichigo and Nnoitra fight, feeling completely numb and empty. Her emotions had been so violent, her grief and fear so deep, that they had burned her out. She felt nothing, could do nothing but stand there, inert, as she watched the fight before her.

Ichigo had come to save her, but she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve his protection any more. There was nothing left for her. She was an empty shell. Her child was gone. She had been emptied out of everything but grief.

She had watched helplessly as Ichigo fought first with Grimmjow, and then with Nnoitra. The worst part, though, was when to her shock and dismay, Ichigo himself had turned into a Hollow, his eyes inhuman.

She realized then that nothing in her world was as it seemed. Aizen had lied to her. Of course, that was to be expected. But even Ichigo, whom she had believed was good to the core, had an inhuman, vicious side to him. Was the inner core of everything in the world evil? It felt as though the central foundation of her being had been torn asunder.

And now, it felt as though she were standing to one side, watching herself act. She could still use her powers mechanically to protect herself and those around her. But how strong could her powers truly be, when she doubted herself and the world around her so deeply? How strong could she herself be, when the small life that had once nestled within her had been ripped from her soul so abruptly?

When she couldn't defend the one being that truly needed her?

Still, she thought, as she watched the fight before her between two insanely powerful beings, she would not give up. No matter how pitiful her powers were, she would use them to help Ichigo to her last breath. She would fight, regardless of how much she was aching inside.

In Tesla's grasp, she once again tried to reach out to her fairies, to summon her powers to help Ichigo against Nnoitra.

But the blond Arrancar shook her and said, "Don't expect to be able to stop me with your ability. Although your powers are immense, the spiritual container in which they are held is ridiculously fragile." He laughed, the eye without a patch narrowing. "I could easily destroy it. The only reason why I hold back is because of Aizen-sama's orders. Your powers are his property now, and his orders were that we were not to destroy them unless you attacked us." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If you attack me, I will destroy them. Please do not resist."

Orihime sagged in his hold at the mention of Aizen's name. So he had ordered his Espada to destroy her powers if she fought. He truly cared nothing for her. Her last speck of hope evaporated. Everything he had said to her was a lie; everything Ichigo had been to her was false. There was nothing left for her. She could not aid Ichigo. She no longer had any will left to have any action on the world around her.

She could only watch as the horror unfolded around her.

XxXxXxX

Gin lifted a hand to knock on the large double doors of Aizen's personal quarters, but the heavy doors opened before his knuckles had touched the wood. He took a moment to make very certain his signature technique of reiatsu camouflage was in place. Out of all shinigami, Gin was the only one who could hide his true feelings, not just on his face, but in his reiatsu. Even during a fight, when most beings were forced to expose their souls to their opponents in order to attack with the greatest strength, no one could sense Gin's heart. It was a difficult technique, requiring delicate control, but he had perfected it over a hundred years of secretly working for Aizen in the Soul Society.

It would be critical that Aizen not detect an iota of his mood for this meeting.

Smiling enigmatically as always, he passed through the antechamber and into the expansive and elegant sitting room of his lord. Aizen was relaxing on a large armchair at the far end of the room, chin propped on his hand, intently watching a large video screen hanging before him.

Gin walked slowly over the huge Oriental carpet covering the white marble floor. Aizen's beautiful, liquid brown eyes were focused on the screen. His reiatsu was tightly furled, but Gin could tell that he was agitated, concentrating on the images before him. He ignored his second-in-command as Gin moved silently across the thick carpet, moved to stand behind his lord's chair. The images on the screen showed a battle between Kurosaki Ichigo and Nnoitra. Orihime was off to one side, captive in Tesla's grasp.

Aizen's eyes were on the image of the girl.

Gin's eyes could not narrow further, but despite himself, his heart clenched at the sight of his lord so disturbed over the human girl. Once again, he felt the knife twist within him. Even though he knew Aizen was faithless, that he cared nothing for Gin, that he had only used him for a hundred years, Gin could not help the stab of pain in his heart.

He loved Aizen. He could not help himself. No matter how many times he told himself the man was an evil bastard who did not deserve his love, not the way Rangiku deserved it, he still found himself drawn to the man. He was helplessly fascinated by everything about Aizen, his sharp wit, his serenity, his finely crafted features, his graceful movements, the flash of his eyes, his deep and resonant voice, the touch of his reiatsu… and his audacious plans.

It was bitter, so very bitter, to realize that Aizen could be so affected by a human girl's actions, when he was so emotionless toward Gin, even after a hundred years of loyal service. Even after a hundred years of being his lover. He felt the fury build at his core. He wanted to rage at the man. He loved him far more than the human girl did. He could have given him everything.

The fury washed through him and left a profound sadness in his wake. He had long ago admitted to himself that he loved Aizen even though it could never be reciprocated. He had been certain that Aizen could never really love. The man's soul had been utterly twisted at some point in the past, and had become unable to make a true connection with anyone. Or so he had always thought. That had made Gin's unrequited love bearable. Perhaps Aizen did not love him; but then, he was incapable of love, so there was no chance of losing him to someone else.

It could not be possible that a mere human could have affected Aizen in a way that Gin had never been able to. Not after all their history together.

However, he let none of this turmoil show in his face or his reiatsu signature. His immutable grin did not falter. He had not been Aizen's student for a century for nothing. He would say and do whatever it took to advance his own agenda. And this time, Gin would use Aizen's emotions against him, in exactly the same way he knew Aizen had used his own feelings for Rangiku against him.

He reached down to massage Aizen's shoulders, allowing only affection and obedience to flow through his fingertips. The older shinigami sighed and relaxed into his subordinate's strong kneading of his stiff muscles.

"Yer tense, Aizen-sama," Gin drawled as he continued to work on the tight muscles.

"There is much to do before we leave for the world of the living, Gin," Aizen replied in a calm voice, his reiatsu betraying nothing now. He turned to look up at the thin shinigami's face. "Did you examine the woman's reiatsu?"

Gin nodded. "It's as you suspected, Aizen-sama. There is no sign of the child's reiatsu any longer within her body. She must have used her powers to reject its existence, as there is no evidence of her using physical means to terminate the pregnancy."

The brown-haired shinigami's eyes narrowed. "She dared…" he whispered, "to do that to _my_ child."

Gin did not say anything as he felt Aizen's reiatsu begin building in the room. He usually could withstand it when Aizen raised his spiritual pressure under most conditions. He braced himself, suspecting that this might be higher than usual.

But abruptly, the pressure stopped as Aizen furled his reiatsu tightly. Gin marveled at yet another demonstration of his master's inhuman self-control. The man could stifle his own emotions mercilessly, bring the most intense feelings under complete control. Gin saw his eyes narrow with calculation and a calm expression descend on his face. He had seen that expression dozens of times during the century he had served under Aizen in the Soul Society, when someone challenged Aizen, or crossed him in any way, in a situation where Aizen had to maintain his façade of the good captain. It was the expression that meant that Aizen was already planning to get even with the one who crossed him.

Gin's face expressed only his unchanging grin, but inside he shivered with a dark delight. Indeed, he almost felt sorry for the human girl. He knew that his lord would find the exact, most devastating way to strike against the girl in order to obtain his revenge. And that he would take his time doing it, and he would revel in whatever steps he took to crush the girl's spirit.

Gin continued to grin. His master was a sadistic bastard. He very much hoped that he could witness Aizen's revenge.

XxXxXxX

After taking his leave of his lieutenant, Aizen ascended the stairs to his private study once again, this time with his mind focused and cold. The anger at his core would fuel his power. He had learned long ago the advantages of channeling his emotions into action rather than releasing them where others could see them.

He sat down at his desk and closed his eyes. Then he began assembling the elements of the spell he had attempted before without success. As he focused his intent, he was pleased to see that he was no longer distracted. Instead, his will burned steady and true.

He had been truly surprised by the depth of his reaction to the human girl's actions. He realized he had very nearly made a tremendous mistake, that he had been allowing himself to develop… feelings… for her and even for his unborn child.

He realized he had made the mistake of thinking he might no longer be alone.

The loneliness he had always felt, that he had ruthlessly suppressed over the centuries, had surfaced unexpectedly at the recent developments.

But as he had always believed, it was a weakness to rely on others. He had made a mistake by allowing himself to be distracted by the human girl, to contemplate the possibility of her having his child. Having offspring would be an error for someone like him.

Instead, he would focus again on his true goal.

Carefully, Aizen lifted the Hougyoku out of its container and placed it in the center of the glowing reiatsu web he had built. There, he thought with satisfaction, a perfectly constructed spell this time. This time, he felt his customary pleasure and pride at his own skill. No one could assemble and direct the kidou energies the way he could.

At last, he was on the brink of obtaining everything he had truly ever wanted. He lifted a hand to begin the final set of gestures to trap the Hougyoku within his own body, finally subjugate it completely to his will.

There was a signal from the door. Annoyed, he glanced up. He could feel nothing outside the reiatsu shielding in this room; he had constructed it for the purpose of extremely delicate work with very powerful energies. But the signal was in Gin's pattern. His eyes narrowed. His lieutenant knew that he did not wish to be disturbed while he conducted his final work.

He turned back to the spell-casting. Whatever the problem was, Gin could handle it. He had carefully trained Gin and developed his power over a century. The man was extraordinarily powerful and could certainly handle whatever difficulty might have arisen in Las Noches.

One problem with keeping your subordinates deferential was that they tended to lack initiative sometimes. It would be a good lesson for Gin to deal with the problem on his own. Aizen gave a half smile as turned away from the door and focused his attention on the next delicate piece of the spell.

XxXxXxX

There was a break in the ferocious battle taking place before Orihime, as both Nnoitra and Ichigo lay injured upon the ground. Tesla's grip on Orihime slackened as his eyes went to his fallen master in dismay and he started forward. With a sudden twist, Orihime pulled out of his grasp and ran forward to Ichigo, raising her healing powers as she ran.

But before she could begin the healing, she was grabbed from behind in a grip like a vise. She half-twisted in her captor's grasp to see that it was Nnoitra. He was still alive after all. He was clutching her, grinning horribly, his greasy black hair falling limply over her shoulder, an avid light in his eyes.

In front of her, Tesla raised his sword. "Strike down, Beluga!" he called out, and to Orihime's shock a huge giant appeared behind Ichigo's fallen form, raising a monstrous fist. Ichigo, bleeding from the mouth, gasping for breath, pushed himself slowly to his hands and knees. Behind him, Tesla readied a blow to finish the severely injured youth. Orihime opened her mouth to cry out, but suddenly a smelly, dirty hand was wrapped around her face, stifling her. Then two filthy fingers were shoved brutally into her mouth.

"Shut up!" rasped Nnoitra. "All you gotta do is shut up and watch." He grinned sadistically. "Watch the guy who came ta save ya get diced into slabs of meat."

He half-turned her body so that she could get a good view of Tesla's huge, monstrous form as it smashed into Ichigo, sending the already injured youth flying.

No! Orihime wanted to scream. Not Ichigo! But she could do nothing but watch helplessly as the ponderous form shuffled forward after Ichigo, preparing the killing blow.

Then Orihime gasped as a new combatant suddenly appeared on the scene. She recognized a captain's haori. A shinigami? But she had thought Soul Society had refused to intervene in this battle. It took a moment more before she recognized Zaraki Kenpachi, the 11th division captain.

Nnoitra dropped her instantly, his attention focused on this new enemy. His lips peeled back in a savage grin.

Tesla had immediately jumped in front of Kenpachi, who raised his sword and sliced through the monstrous form in a single blow, not even appearing to break a sweat. In an instant, Tesla lay dead on the ground.

"Next," Kenpachi drawled casually as he turned to face Nnoitra.

Then the two clashed in a ferocious explosion of powerful reiatsu.

Finally free, Orihime lost no time in running to Ichigo's side. She began healing him rapidly, wondering how much time she had before the attention of the combatants turned to them again. She sat beside her healing shield, watching the process finish on Ichigo. The orange-haired youth slowly raised his head to look at her. Then there was a shout from the battlefield. Kenpachi was looking at them, triumphant and grinning. He gestured dismissively at Ichigo.

"Time to get the hell outta here, substitute shinigami! The woman's outta harm's way, your job's done." He sneered, then narrowed his eyes at Orihime. "Woman!" he hollered. "Heal me now!"

As Orihime ran to obey, another figure appeared in front of her. A tall, handsome man with gray eyes and shoulder-length dark hair stood eying her with a mild, regretful look in his eyes. "Forgive me," he murmured as he clasped Orihime with arms that were gentle but firm as iron. "Truth be told, I abhor such tactics. But I'm afraid none of us here has much say in the matter. Hold on tight!"

With those words he picked her up and suddenly everything disappeared in a rush of speed as the man— no, Espada, she realized— was sonidoing faster than anyone she had seen before.

Then he abruptly stopped. Orihime caught her breath, looking around her. She was within a building she had never seen before, though she recognized the distinctive architectural style of Las Noches.

"Welcome back, Orihime." The deep, familiar voice was cold and mocking. She whirled to see in front of her, standing regal and beautiful in his white robes at the top of a long flight of stairs, the one man she least wanted to lay eyes upon.

Aizen.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Challenge – Chap. 14**

**A/N:** We finally get to the critical scene from manga chapters 313 and 314.

For some reason, this story continues to be very difficult for me to write, although I know exactly where it's going to go. It was only the wonderful reviews I got from you all for the last chapter that enabled me to push onward and write this chapter. Thank you! *hugs*

**Warning:** angst.

(Originally posted 9/6/2011.)

XxXxXxX

"Welcome back, Orihime." Aizen's voice was as deep and seductive as ever as he slowly descended the stairs, his eyes on Orihime. She gasped and took a step backward. She could feel her eyes go wide with fear and shock. There was something different about Aizen. His reiatsu had always been powerful, but now it hammered at her; she felt like a tiny creature crushed by a tidal wave generated by a vast, indifferent sea. There was almost a metallic, artificial, cold feeling to his reiatsu; it was impersonal and huge.

"What is it?" he mused, his lips curling slightly at the expression on her face. "Why do you look so sad?" Behind him, Gin and Kaname waited expressionlessly, subservient to his whims as always. They would pause on their way to the primary military objective of the war and wait patiently, simply because their lord chose to spend a few minutes bandying words with a human teenager.

Aizen had reached her now. His eyes were dark and expressionless. He extended his long fingers in a graceful, familiar gesture, taking her face in his hands and stroking her lip gently with his thumb. It was a gesture he had often used just before he kissed her. Somehow, now, though, it felt completely different. It felt like a cruel mockery of seduction.

In the past her skin had tingled unbearably from his touch, but now she felt nothing. She stared blankly straight ahead. She would not meet his eyes. She did not want to see the coldness there, so obvious now beneath the trappings of seduction. He was playing with her now, showing her how everything had been false, how easily he could play the adoring lover while feeling nothing underneath. Instead of warmth and tingling, she felt only cold disdain from his reiatsu. He was deliberately showing her the hostile edge of his spiritual pressure, even as he stroked her gently, brought his lips to her ear so she could feel his warm breath.

"A girl like you should smile more often," he murmured in a voice as sweet as honey. "Overcast skies blot out the sun… and that always brings people's spirits down." He smiled at her, again with that horrible mockery of sweetness and love. "So why not let the sun shine… for the time being anyway…"

Then he straightened and looked down at her from his full height, his face now cruel and arrogant. "Don't worry. I'll return for you…" His lips curled into a smirk as his eyes searched her face. "As soon as I destroy Karakura Town." He watched for her reaction, and paused, his eyes glittering with enjoyment, as her face turned ashen.

"Destroy… Karakura Town?" she whispered in horror. So it had all been true, that he was planning to obliterate her home town merely to obtain a device to facilitate his invasion plans. She hadn't believed it. She had allowed herself to fall for his lies. But could it really be possible?

Aizen smirked as he turned away with a casual shrug, letting her feel the coldness and emptiness that was left when he withdrew his reiatsu. He began mounting the stairs, his pace measured and deliberate. "That's right," he said, continuing to walk up the stairs, his back to her.

At some signal from him, an immense garganta cracked open at the top of the stairs, showing her a distorted view of her city's skyline. She gasped. It was so close. Unlike the other gargantas which led to long, dark passageways from world to world, this one made it look like her home world was only steps away. She felt an unbearable longing and homesickness for her tiny apartment, all her friends. How she wanted to be back there, in those halcyon days when life was so much simpler, before she had been brought here to serve as a pawn and lapdog of this demon in a beautiful form.

How could Aizen create such a dramatic garganta? Then she realized this was also part of his intent. He was showing her his vast power, that he alone could create a dimensional rift that made it but a step from one world to the next. And he was also taunting her with its nearness. Home was so near and yet so unattainable… and soon to be forever gone, if Aizen's promise was true.

"We shall destroy Karakura Town," Aizen continued, his voice exuding silky satisfaction, "and create the Ouken."

He turned away from her. "Kaname," he said. "The Tenteikuura."

"At once, sir," said Tousen crisply. He began making the gestures for the spell, extending his arm sharply, but Orihime was no longer listening. Her eyes were focused on the upside-down image of her hometown.

Aizen was speaking again, but nothing he said seemed to have any meaning to Orihime. Until she heard her name. "Inoue Orihime," he said, his voice suddenly caressing in that horrible mockery of affection, "I am leaving in the fifth tower. If you wish to retrieve her, you may come and make your attempt." His voice turned icy. "I no longer have any use for her."

Standing far below him on the cold concrete, Orihime shivered. The last time she had heard Aizen announce he had no use for someone, it had been followed by an order to kill. She waited, the space between her shoulder blades tingling. He had ordered their child destroyed; now he would undoubtedly arrange her death as well.

"Her ability is truly a wonderful one," Aizen continued, clearly dragging out the suspense before he gave the final order to kill her, as she hunched her shoulders and waited for the finishing blow. He was speaking to the assembled members of Soul Society, but every word struck Orihime directly in her heart. He described in excruciating detail how he had used her as a piece in his game, both to confound Soul Society and as bait for a trap, to lure their military strength to Hueco Mundo and imprison them there. Orihime felt her heart chill at the way he had used and deceived her from the very beginning, and her guilt mounted at her realization that she had, after all, played an important, though unwilling, role in the war, all the while she was allowing Aizen to seduce her, to play with her, to amuse himself with her. He had toyed with her as he often did with his underlings, and she, foolish creature that she was, had deluded herself into thinking that she was something more to him than a plaything.

As her cheeks flamed and despair overflowed her heart, she stared straight ahead. Perhaps it would be better if she died now, so as not to ever have to face her friends ever again. So as not to have to live through the shame of seeing the knowledge in their faces, the knowledge of what she truly was, someone who was worse than her mother, who at least had only harmed members of her own family. Orihime's crimes, her willingness to go along with Aizen's plans, made her far worse. Yes, better indeed if she died. If only the ground would open up and swallow her, or if Aizen's minions could complete their task and kill her. She knew she would not fight back. She would never fight back. Her life was truly worthless. It was worse than worthless. Far better that she never exist at all.

Aizen's voice was replete with satisfaction as he continued to speak, and Orihime felt herself shuddering at his voice. "The true strength of the Gotei 13 lies in its thirteen captains. However, right now, three of those captains have defected and four are imprisoned in Hueco Mundo. Soul Society's military force has been cut in half."

Aizen smirked as he stepped forward into the garganta and took a few measured steps into the sky above Karakura Town. "This conquest will be easy."

With a loud crack, the dimensional rift snapped shut, and Orihime was left alone in the empty, echoing hall.

XxXxXxX

Aizen stood in the sky above Karakura Town, relishing the view of the human world beneath him, the pitiful remnants of Soul Society standing like leaves about to be scattered by the wind, attempting their feeble defense against his might. He felt anticipation curl within him at the thought of the battle ahead, how everything was going in accordance with his plans.

Looking below him at the elaborate replica of the human town, he smiled with pleasure at the thought that once again, all of Soul Society had scurried around under his machinations. It was quite amusing to see them try to oppose him. Of course, they had always been more powerful combined than he was alone. But he had always been able to outsmart them. He had never been one for the direct frontal attack, but rather for the carefully planned strategies to maximize his opponents' weaknesses while leveraging his own strength. The events unfolding now were once more proof of the effectiveness of his strategies.

Now, however, as he felt the staggering primal energy of the Hougyoku pulsing in his chest, he wondered if all those clever plans were no longer necessary. He had truly become a God with this new power. His thoughts ran together with a heavy ferocity, as though he was a colossus rather than in the shape of a mere human. The human form was only limiting. It no longer mattered.

This was power beyond all he had ever dreamed of, when he was a helpless boy in the poorest of the poor districts. Power that could easily smash the human girl's world, the girl who had thought to defy him. He would enjoy crushing her town and killing all her friends. Then he would hang up their corpses so she could see them.

He was leaving her alive on purpose. By keeping her alive, she would suffer far more, knowing that he had destroyed everything she had held dear. He smirked. The Hougyoku within him heard his desires for revenge and promised to satisfy them.

Soon the world would turn under his hand. What need had he of a foolish human woman, of her pitiful half-human spawn? She was nothing to him. Less than nothing.

He would be the God of three worlds.

He stepped forward into the skies above Karakura Town and confronted the assembled captains and lieutenants of the Gotei 13. Yamamoto, the man he had had to kowtow to for a hundred years, was standing in front of all the others.

Aizen smirked and prepared for the battle of wits as well as swords. As he called his Espada to him, he savored the thought that soon Yamamoto would fall to his blade; soon all the captains would be crushed under his power.

He had never felt so powerful before. Moving forward with relaxed amusement, he took the first steps to begin his conquest.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Challenge – Chap. 15**

**A/N:** In this story line, Aizen faced the Gotei 13 as in canon, but there are some small but crucial differences that will be revealed in this chapter. This story deviates from canon after chapter 314.

(Originally posted 9/13/11.)

XxXxXxX

Sensory deprivation. It might have driven a lesser man insane.

He was bound hand and foot to a chair infused with reiatsu-deadening material; even his eyes and mouth were bound. In the dark cavern of his mind, locked away in a dark cell, all his senses deadened, he waited.

What was the passage of time to an immortal?

He had always been a patient man, but what he was being forced to endure now was one of the most difficult trials he had faced. Still, it was merely another setback. In the silence of his cell, he was calm and serene.

There were even advantages to his situation. Fewer distractions, for one. He could focus on his thoughts, and re-engineer his plans with extraordinary clarity. He could see the minor errors and miscalculations he had made, and recompute the possibilities. It was a marvelous opportunity for thinking and contemplation, what he had always done best, now taken to the nth degree. And in the meantime, he slowly worked at the weaknesses in the bindings that held him.

For there were always weak spots… in anything. With the heightened sensitivity his mind derived from sensory deprivation, he carefully, painstakingly sought out the tiniest of flaws in the bindings and delicately nudged them further apart. His powers were sealed away, but the Hougyoku still pulsed sluggishly beneath all the bindings. They had been unable to take it away from him, although they had tried.

It was only a matter of time until he was free, and then he would resume his drive toward the throne. And this time, there would be no mistakes. All his enemies would fall before him.

Behind his bonds, Aizen smirked.

XxXxXxX

As the silent months passed, he spent time going over the last few minutes of his victories and his final defeat, over and over again. He spread out the memories dispassionately in his mind like sheets of paper on a desk. It was important to view them neutrally, from an objective perspective. He had always prided himself on his clear and dispassionate vision, his awareness of others' superiority to him in certain areas, his lack of a falsely inflated ego. Yamamoto was stronger than him. Urahara was more intelligent. Now, it seemed, the "substitute shinigami," Kurosaki Ichigo, had become a transcendent being ahead of him.

He had made mistakes, especially in his plans for Kurosaki. He had badly underestimated him.

Just as Tousen had fallen prey to the intoxication of his sudden power and had become distracted and careless, so had he. He faced his mistake head on. He had failed not due to lack of ability, but due to carelessness and arrogance. The rush of power from the Hougyoku had been intoxicating, exhilarating. He had thought he was so powerful that he no longer needed to plan.

That had obviously been wrong.

He would not make that mistake again. Here, in the quiet darkness, he had nothing to do but plan. This time, his plans would be flawless, and his execution of them would be precise and careful.

XxXxXxX

He had been so confident.

He had stood in the replica of Karakura Town in the world of the living, all his enemies cut down before him, facing the "substitute shinigami," Kurosaki Ichigo, who still featured in his plans. He had laughed as he told the boy triumphantly that he had lost interest in him. It was a lie, but it would serve his purposes well. He told him he would leave him alive, despairing and powerless. Perhaps he could feature in the punishment he envisioned for the human girl when he returned to Las Noches in triumph, Aizen had mused.

As he stood amidst the wreckage of the replica city the shinigami had been at such pains to build, he considered with satisfaction how the course of the war had not merely gone as he expected, but far better. He had cut down all the captains and even the Vizards single-handedly. He had planned for the worst, had devised a stratagem for every contingency, had built an army to fight at his side, to protect him, to serve him, but it turned out that they all were unnecessary. He alone, with the power of the Hougyoku within him, could wipe out the most powerful beings Soul Society had to offer.

It had been amusing to see them all rail at him. Especially Hitsugaya. It was so satisfying to goad the youth, to fertilize and cultivate his hatred until the small shinigami captain was stupid with rage and so predictable. It was only fitting. The youthful shinigami had had such an easy life, such a smooth road to captainhood. He was all the senior captains' favorite; he had never had to prove himself in the Shinigami Academy the way Aizen had had to. Everybody spoke of him with admiration as the child prodigy. He had been groomed for captainhood, rushed into bankai training early.

So unlike the treatment Aizen had received. He had been overlooked time and again at the Academy, told over and over again that he "wasn't ready" for bankai training, when it was clear the only reason for that was that the old boys' network, the nobles and favorites, competent or not, were plugging up all the available captain slots, and they simply didn't want more candidates.

That had all changed, of course, a hundred years ago, when there had suddenly been many captain and lieutenant vacancies after that one night. Aizen smirked. After that night, they had finally realized how much they needed strong captain candidates. It had been so amusing to pretend to be reluctant, to humbly murmur that he was not worthy for command, to hear Yamamoto, Ukitake, Kyoraku, all the old guard trying to jolly him into taking the captain's exam. The same old guard who had earlier marked "not ready" on his record.

How they had all fallen at his feet in the end. How satisfying was revenge, revenge at last on the corrupt Soul Society that had tried, and failed, to grind him down and spit him out. He had triumphed over them after all.

He was unstoppable. His power truly approached that of the gods'. He had no need to kill any of the members of the opposing army. They were simply irrelevant; so far beneath his notice as to be unworthy of his sword.

He ordered Gin to open a senkaimon, so he could walk at his leisure to Soul Society and complete the last phase of his plan. He left all the shinigami alive so that they could hear once more that he planned to destroy one hundred thousand human souls.

Of course, that had nothing to do with his real plan. Still, it served his purposes, for them all to fear him, for the ryoka boy to despair.

He walked into the dimensional passage and was struck by how familiar it felt, how mundane and normal, a reminder of the life he had had before. Gin walked by his side, every now and then shooting a sidelong glance at him from under lowered lids. He felt Gin's fear of him and was amused.

He could even, beyond all reason, destroy Koutotsu, the construct that all shinigami feared. How pleasant it was to play with his vast powers.

Gin waited at his side, afraid. He could sense the man's imminent betrayal and he laughed inwardly. If Gin struck against him now, he would be easy to destroy.

He walked through the true Karakura Town that had been transported to Soul Society, Gin at his side and behind him, as always. He could feel the trivial humans all around, put to sleep by Soul Society's spells.

Victory had been all but assured. He had been so certain of that. Where had he gone wrong?

XxXxXxX

Despite all his careful plans, despite all his power, he had underestimated the souls around him. He had become overly arrogant. He could admit it now.

He had underestimated Gin. He should have known that whatever Gin was planning would be far more devastating than a physical attack. He should have known that Gin would strike at him both physically and emotionally, that Gin would find and focus on each of his weaknesses.

Orihime had become a weakness, and Gin had used Aizen's own emotions against him in the same way Aizen had used Gin's emotions and love against him. A caustic smile tugged at Aizen's lips under the bindings. It was quite ironic. But not unexpected that his protégé would be so deadly at the end.

He remembered it all so clearly, details from all five senses vivid in his mind from that day. Gin had turned to him in triumph. He had put his hand on Kyouka Suigetsu, thereby nullifying Aizen's core power. Aizen had known what was coming next, but—in another shocking failure of his— had not realized that Gin had lied about his bankai.

Gin had touched his sword almost casually. "Well, then I'll be the one ta kill those kids."

Aizen glanced down at Gin's hand on his sword and stiffened. Here it came. The man walked past him so that his bell sleeves hid his motions, his favorite trick. Aizen waited for the blow.

Shinsou extended, pierced Aizen in the heart. Even expecting it, he gasped at the sudden shock of pain, and his hand went to his chest in reflex.

Gin turned to him, eyes slitted shut, his habitual grin on his face. "I lied about my bankai," he explained casually. "You see, I left a tiny shard of my blade in your body. On it is a deadly poison which will dissolve your body's cells from the inside. You'll die with a hole in your chest." His subordinate's grin widened in triumph at his final blow.

"Gin!" gasped Aizen. He was surprised… surprised that Gin would have lied to him, surprised and chagrined that he hadn't known… and in the end, he realized that the reason he was taken off guard was that after one hundred years, he somehow hadn't believed that Gin would finally do it, would finally betray his master. He realized that in some irrational part of his heart, he had wished that Gin was truly loyal, had somehow hoped that his love for him would have overcome his hatred. In the end, Aizen had not been able to eradicate that last weakness from his soul, that last spark of emotion and affection, that last bit of irrationality that tied him to the human world.

He fell to his knees, emotion swamping him even as his physical body faltered.

Gin looked at him, finally opening his eyes so Aizen could see the hatred in them. "And what's more, I outsmarted ya in the end too. I want ya ta know. That girl never used her powers to destroy yer child. I suggested it ta her, but she didn't do it. Instead, I let Loly an' Menoly know that I'd disabled the cameras in her room."

Aizen choked, his body falling backwards even as Gin's words continued to assault his ears.

Gin chuckled. "I knew I wouldn't have to tell them ta do anythin'. Loly hated that human girl so much because of what _you_ did ta her; all I hadda do was give her an openin'. But ya know— ya brought it on yerself. Ya made sure so many people around ya hated ya. Didn't ya realize how unstable an environment that created?"

Aizen was lying on the ground now, his eyes staring blankly upward, most of his chest gone.

Gin looked down at him. "It was so easy ta make the girl believe_ you_ were the one who had killed yer own child. She could see ya were a heartless bastard. It was visible everywhere around her in Hueco Mundo. Yer court was a court of hatred and despair. Ya weren't aware of how different it was from Soul Society, 'cause ya didn't realize how much yer façade of kindness kept people around ya supportin' ya, keepin' things runnin'. Squad Five ran smoothly 'cause so many people loved ya." He shook his head. "But all ya could see was that it was a lie. Ya thought you'd run things differently in Hueco Mundo. That you'd let yer true self come out. That you'd rule through fear."

He grinned at the man lying at his feet. "I think ya can see now how wrong ya were. Ya destroyed everythin' around ya. That girl's love, yer subjects' admiration, even yer own child. All in pursuit of—what? Meaningless power." Gin's face became serious as he watched the death of the man who had once been his beloved captain. "Ya threw away everything worthwhile for nothin'. I served ya for a hundred years and in the end, I was worth nothin' ta ya too. Well, it's all over now."

He stooped and his fingers closed around the Hougyoku, now floating in midair where Aizen's heart had been. "With this… it's all over." He looked at the gleaming jewel in his hand. "Now… what am I gonna do with this?"

Aizen's mind and body were overwhelmed with pain. Pain and despair. It couldn't be over. Not this way. Not now. Not after everything he had worked for.

He opened his mouth and screamed.

No! He would not die. He would _not_ end. There was still too much he had to do. As his physical body began to shut down, he gathered his resolve, his _will_ to live. He would not be destroyed. He would live. He felt his consciousness slip away from the spiritual world around him, but it did not disappear. Rather, he gathered his ferocious power together, turning his physical body into pure energy.

From the physics lectures he himself had given at the Academy he remembered the equation they had learned from scientists in the human world: _E_ equals _mc_ squared. What remained of his corporeal body was transmuting into pure energy, the atoms breaking down, splitting, the overwhelming transformation taking place not due to any physical laws but solely according to his will… proof that the soul's desire was greater than anything else in the universe.

He was transforming into a vast column of energy, a fountainhead of pure power… evolving into the next stage of being, the stage he had been seeking for centuries. And with it came another rush of power, a new intoxication, an overwhelming power as he felt himself become a being of pure energy. The energy settled into the shape of a tall, glowing man in robes of white, long hair swirling about his face, his sword fused to his hand. But the shape meant nothing. Physical location no longer meant anything.

He spoke, and the words no longer issued from his mouth, but vibrated the very air around him by his will.

"Gin. The Hougyoku you stole is still mine." At the speed of light, his energy form appeared in an eyeblink in front of Gin, who was still standing, staring at him, barely moving… so slow. With one slash, he had cut down the body of the man who had dared to betray him, and recaptured the Hougyoku.

He looked at the man slumping before him, now dying, the man who had betrayed him, the one who had been by his side for a century, who had served him and carried out his every order. His mind flashed over how he had met Gin, how he had won him to his side, how he had involved him in his plans… how he had seduced him. How he had told Gin he was incapable of love. His eyes narrowed. Again the emotion threatened to swamp him, but he held it back by force of will.

What need had he for emotion, for love, for sorrow? He was a god now. He needed nothing and no one, not now and not ever. He looked down at the man at his feet, gasping, his blood pouring out of his physical being. "Thank you, Gin," he said, twisting the knife as always. "Fear is necessary for evolution. Thanks to your efforts, I have at last become a being that transcends both hollow and shinigami."

XxXxXxX

He had survived even Gin's deadly attack. But he had still failed in the end, failed not just because of the ryoka boy's unexpected power. Because Gin's other blow had had far-reaching consequences.

In the dimness of his cell, Aizen remembered. He had destroyed Gin, had destroyed his lover and companion… but not before the man had struck a truly devastating blow.

Now that he had time and quiet, he could see it all, the way he couldn't when the raw power of the Hougyoku and of transcendence was blasting through his soul. He had given up his intelligence, his thinking, the abilities that made him who he was. He had exchanged it all for primal, inhuman power… he had thought that was his most heartfelt desire. To become powerful enough so that nobody could hurt him any more. To change the world so that it was no longer possible for him to suffer, for him to be humiliated, to lie broken at the will of another, assaulted, violated and bleeding, merely because of weakness. To expunge all weakness from his soul and to control everything, simply everything around him. So that no matter what Soul Society did, no matter what brutes they allowed to exist and to attack children, that he would be safe.

To become other than human, to transcend human pain and human weakness.

But was it not his human soul that was his most precious possession?

In the quiet of his cell, as he laid out the memories again one by one, he faced his next painful mistake. His last and most devastating false assumption. Orihime… had not destroyed his child. Gin had arranged it… because he had driven Gin to hatred and distraction over a century of callous manipulation. And what was more, Orihime believed that he had done it.

In the moment of the ryoka's attack, of Urahara's kidou smashing into his body, he had been filled with an alien emotion. His control over the powerful Hougyoku, like that of a rider over a wild stallion, required unrelenting will and singleness of purpose. A pure and unblemished desire. But instead, his mind had been filled with the vision of Orihime's horrified face, with his final understanding of what she had been thinking of him. The awareness had flooded him, and his grip on the Hougyoku had loosened. He had grasped the import of his actions, and he had comprehended, at last, why his seed had planted a child in Orihime's body when it had not done so in any other partner for hundreds of years.

His body, his head could barely move in the restraints that held him now. But what he was feeling in this moment was something Aizen Sousuke had not felt in centuries: regret. He sagged in the bindings and his head bowed; his eyes closed behind the bandages. Gin had spoken the truth. Aizen had brought it on himself. He had driven everyone away, had severed every relationship he had ever had in his drive for power.

He had tamped the feelings down, had refused to admit the truth of Gin's words as he continued to fight, as he faced Kurosaki. But even Kurosaki could see it. The ryoka was surrounded by friends and allies. He was apparently a mere human, but somehow he had gathered so many people around him. Orihime… Orihime had loved the ryoka. She could have loved Aizen. She could have had his child. But now all that was gone.

In his dark cell, Aizen at last faced the bitter truth, and in his mind, for the first time, despaired not at his failure in battle, but at all he had had… and had lost.

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened her eyes in the early morning dimness of her apartment bedroom and lay for a minute getting her bearings. She had had a particularly vivid nightmare of her time in Las Noches once again.

It was more than a year since Ichigo and Urahara had defeated and imprisoned Aizen, since she had returned to the world of the living with no apparent scars from her kidnapping. She had been able to heal herself so that her body was the same as it had been before the traumatic events of her captivity.

She had always been good at keeping a cheerful face over feelings of deep pain, and this time had been no different. She had resolutely put aside everything that had happened to her and had gone back to school as though nothing had happened.

Ichigo, she could tell, also harbored emotional scars from that time period, but he refused to talk about it. He had lost his powers and claimed to be happy about it, that he could now return to the normal life he had always wished for, unburdened by even the sight of ghosts around Karakura Town.

But she could see in his quick glances when Uryuu or Chad mentioned their experiences, or in the pensive frowns she sometimes surprised on him during a moment of reflection, that he hadn't forgotten either. That he also had unresolved issues, unlanced wounds from that period of their lives.

Instead of turning to his friends, he had withdrawn in on himself. He had become surly and uncommunicative. He was polite to Orihime, neutral. They were friends, still, if nothing more.

What she hadn't counted on were her own dreams and nightmares. She woke screaming from them sometimes, only glad that she lived alone, so that no one would know. In the dreams she saw again Ichigo's face turn to the mask of a monster, saw Ulquiorra turn to ash, saw Aizen walk away from her, threatening to destroy her home.

But worse than the nightmares were the pleasant-seeming dreams. The dreams where Aizen came to her and told her once again that he had feelings for her, that he wanted her to be by his side, where he looked at her with his huge and expressive eyes and told her of his loneliness, and said that she was the only one who could cure it. Where he handed a small bundle to her and smiled, and when she pulled back the blanket, a tiny face was revealed, eyes tightly shut. Then the eyes would open, large, deep brown eyes that somehow seemed too knowing for such a tiny one. She would feel her heart pierced with joy at the thought of her child. Of their child.

Then she awoke to the harshness of reality and her daily life, and the memories would come flooding back, and she would remember it was all a lie.

And she was so lonely now… Ichigo was distant, brooding. She caught shreds of his bitterness over being abandoned by Soul Society, over being ignored by Rukia for so long. She caught him more than once moodily staring at the seat in their classroom Rukia used to occupy.

Her life felt so empty now, so devoid of meaning. She had been involved in a grand and glorious quest to save the world, had somehow found herself on what was deemed the wrong side, and had gotten away with being a traitor and a deceiver.

Perhaps the worst was that no one knew, that there was no one she could ask forgiveness of.

And these days the most important decision she was counted on to make was how much butter to spread on her sweet potatoes.

Her life had become trivial and unimportant. She had once been the pawn over which armies fought, the Helen of Troy that led half of Soul Society to what was planned to be its doom. And now she was nothing. She was nobody. And she deserved to be nobody. In the darkness of her bedroom at night, with the myriad city noises and leaky plumbing running, that was brought home over and over. When Ichigo ignored her yet again, despite her attempts to be cheerful, it was brought home.

She heard a faint noise in the darkness of her bedroom, and for a moment thought it was another nightmare. She opened her eyes to a faint blue light in the room, something she shouldn't have seen, as the blackout shades over the window normally sealed out all street lights.

The light increased in intensity, until she saw there was a human figure standing in her bedroom. It was a man, a man with shaggy black hair. The light continued to intensify, and she realized who it was, looking down at her with expressionless eyes once again.

Ulquiorra.

She gasped, and sat up in bed, certain it was another nightmare.

"You must dress yourself, woman, and come with me," said the man, his green eyes expressionless as always. She stared at him; he was unchanged, from the tear streaks on his face to the half-mask, to the white uniform he had always worn.

"Ul- Ulquiorra?" she squeaked. "What- what are you doing here? I- I thought you were…" Her voice trailed off.

"Dead?" he asked in his monotone voice. "Obviously, that is incorrect, as you can see." He gazed at her for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his emotionless voice sounded almost resigned. "I expect, as a human, you will wish explanations. I am permitted to say this: Aizen-sama left a spell in place in Las Noches to resurrect his most loyal Espada should we die there or elsewhere. I was reconstituted shortly after your friend destroyed me."

"Why… why are you here then?" she asked.

He looked at her. "Did you not think that Aizen-sama would have contingency plans? Did he not tell you that he would need your power?" He moved forward, and she saw he held her clothing in his hand. "Dress yourself, woman. There are important tasks for you to perform."


	16. Chapter 16

**The Challenge – Chap. 16**

(Originally posted 4/7/12.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime shrank back as Ulquiorra approached her bed, his eyes glowing like emeralds in the dim moonlight coming in through the tiny window. He tossed a set of white robes onto her bed. She recognized them as her old Arrancar outfit with a sudden shock of adrenaline and dread.

"Dress yourself, woman."

Grimly, she gathered up the shreds of her courage. She wasn't going back to that horror, wasn't going back to the man who had destroyed her child. The war was over and he was imprisoned and helpless. She would never be used by him again.

"No." She was proud that her voice was firm. "I won't go back." She met Ulquiorra's eyes with fierce determination. "I don't care if you kill me, and the trick you used before won't work now. I'm not going." She lifted her chin and looked directly into his eyes. She knew her power was nothing before his and he could kill her in an instant. But she had had a year and a half to rethink all her actions during those painful weeks in Las Noches. This time she knew what was necessary to do. She had already decided she would accept death before allowing herself to be taken prisoner and used again. She waited, her heart pounding, for the emotionless Espada to raise his hand and send a Cero into her heart. Silently, she readied her fairies. If he tried to capture her, she would fight with her new abilities until he killed her.

The black-haired Espada stared at her, his face as expressionless as ever. Then without a word, he put a hand to his face. She gasped in horror as she realized he was gouging out his own eye. Then he was holding it out and crushing it into tiny bits. Her eyes wide, she clutched the blankets in amazement. This was the power she had heard of but never witnessed. Unbidden, her eyes drifted shut as the fragments of Ulquiorra's eye floated past her head.

_The man she had believed she would never see again stood tall before her, one of the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the Hueco Mundo desert as a backdrop. His face was as beautiful and serene as ever, and she felt her heart clutch in the same mingled agony and attraction that she always seemed to feel in Aizen's presence._

"_My dearest Orihime—" his voice was honey and heavy cream just as she remembered it— "If you are seeing this now, it means that my primary plans have failed and I am imprisoned, most likely in Soul Society's prison, Muken." A faint smirk crossed his face. "Not, of course, that any prison built by shinigami will be able to hold me for long."_

_He paced to one side of the room, then turned back to meet her eyes. "However, much as it pains me to rely on someone else, I do have need of you and your unique power once again, my dear. And as a down payment on that favor, I have something to show you."_

_He lifted his hand and she saw he held a remote. He turned to a video screen set into the wall and pointed the device at it. The screen flared to life and she saw another image, this time of Aizen's sitting room, occupied by two men. The brown-haired shinigami was seated on a white armchair, and Ichimaru Gin was standing behind him, his hands on his shoulders._

_The image of Aizen turned to look up at his lieutenant's face. "Did you examine the woman's reiatsu?"_

_Gin nodded. "It's as you suspected, Aizen-sama. There is no sign of the child's reiatsu any longer within her body. She must have used her powers to reject its existence, as there is no evidence of her using physical means to terminate the pregnancy."_

_Onscreen, the brown-haired shinigami's eyes narrowed. "She dared…" he whispered, "to do that to my child."_

Orihime's mouth dropped open and her eyes opened. Ulquiorra stood motionless before her in the dim room, his arm still outstretched. "But that's not how it happened! I never would have done that!" she protested. "Gin was lying!"

Ulquiorra's voice was neutral. "Silence, woman. There is more you need to see." He gestured once again with his free hand, and her eyes closed again of their own accord.

_The video faded and Aizen tossed the remote onto an end table. Turning once again to face her, he murmured, "I regret that you felt the need to end the life of our child, Orihime. I truly thought there was a bond between us. And I admit I misjudged your character, for I did not believe you had it in you to take a life." His beautiful eyes bored into her. "Thus I am altering the plans I originally had for you." A dark smile bloomed on his face. "I'm afraid… that it will not be… as pleasant for you as I had anticipated; however, since you apparently are made of sterner stuff than I believed, surely it will not disturb you too deeply."_

_He paced again to the window and stood with his back to her for a moment, looking out over the endless desert sands. Then he swung to face her once again. The sinister smile was still on his face. "It was a foolish choice on your part, my dear. I meant what I said… I would have made you queen of Las Noches and of the worlds beyond. You, and our child, would have ascended to the throne at the top of the world by my side." His smile faded. "But instead, I will do what I need to do without your consent."_

_He held out his hand and turned it palm upwards. Within it, she saw once again the deep blue glow of the Hougyoku as it flared and glittered in his palm. "Most likely you are unaware of the incredible breadth of powers the Hougyoku can confer on its master." His eyes took on a possessive, avid glint as he regarded the jewel. "Now that I have fully subdued this device, it has yielded its deepest secrets to me, and me alone." He glanced up and his lips took on a scornful twist. "I allowed those fools in Soul Society to believe that I needed you to fully awaken the Hougyoku, and that I intended to destroy Karakura Town to create the Ouken. It served my purposes to have everyone so misinformed." She saw malice flash in his eyes. "Instead, my true plans will surprise you all." He laughed quietly. "I do not expect that you will ever see this recording, Orihime."_

_His eyes darkened. "Nevertheless, I never make a plan without preparing for contingencies." His smile turned chilly. "You, my dear, are my contingency." He held up the Hougyoku so that she could see it fully. "Are you curious as to the nature of my plans for you? Then watch." _

As he spoke, the jewel appeared to grow in her vision until it filled her entire field of view, its dark glitter overwhelming and mesmerizing. As she stared, unable to look away, she began to notice tiny lights moving deep within the jewel. They were forming patterns, scenes. In a blinding flash, she realized that the jewel was portraying a story… it was revealing the truth, if only she could look just a bit closer.

She leaned forward…

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened her eyes. She was lying on a comfortable bed in what looked like a windowless hospital room. In the dim light, she could see banks of equipment surrounding her. She tried to sit up and discovered to her shock that she was bound to the bed and could not move. Her arms, legs, and torso were restrained. She reached out to her fairies, only to discover her hairpins had been taken from her and she could not access her powers. She struggled briefly against her bindings, but they were secure and she could make no headway against them.

Heart pounding, she relaxed against the soft pillows, accepting that there would be no escape for now. Her eyes darted about the room as she tried to take stock of her position. Where was she? She cast her mind back over how she could have come to be in this situation.

The last thing she could remember was Ulquiorra in her room in the apartment, and him showing her Aizen talking to her… She shook her head as the terrifying memory flooded back. Aizen somehow planned to use her in his schemes, and Ulquiorra must have abducted her in order to further those schemes.

She blinked as she remembered again what Gin had said in the vision. He had lied about her to Aizen… and Aizen hadn't realized it. She shuddered at the potential implications. It could explain why Aizen had been so cold to her that last afternoon in Las Noches. Her mind whirled. But… if he hadn't wanted her to destroy their child… then did that mean that he wasn't responsible for Loly and Menoly attacking her either? Had she assumed the worst of him, as he had of her?

But then… she began to tug again at the bindings with renewed urgency. She needed to talk to Ulquiorra, to explain to him what had happened. And where was Aizen? Was he still in prison, or had he already broken out? Her heart chilled as she realized that the man was apt to ignore any attempts at explanation she would give. Whatever plans he had for her would likely involve her being a helpless pawn in his schemes.

She cast her mind back again over what Ulquiorra had shown her. Her heart had leapt up for a moment when Aizen had said, "I meant what I said… I would have made you queen of Las Noches." Then her wiser self had instantly rejected the notion that he had ever had any kind of feelings for her. He was lying again, of course. But still… What had he done to her with the Hougyoku? She sucked in her breath as she realized she had no idea what had happened.

The door opened and another Espada she only vaguely remembered entered the room. From his pink hair she realized this must be Szayel, the eighth Espada. He walked in, smirking as he saw she was awake, and flipped on a light. She shrank away from its brilliance and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard footsteps walking to the side of the bed.

"Ah, awake at last, princess?" She cracked open one eye to see him moving to one of the banks of equipment, scanning the readouts, adjusting a dial. He picked up a line that she saw ran to an IV in her wrist. He gave her a lascivious grin as he ran a finger along the tubing all the way to her arm and began tracing the sensitive skin on her wrist, his fingers teasing her as his avid eyes sought out her own. She shivered and tried to pull away from him.

His smirk widened as he watched her expression, his eyes glinting. He bent down over her, his flyaway hair draping over her face as his hot breath stroked her ear. "I know you were Aizen-sama's little toy, but now you're mine, and he promised me I could do with you what I liked once your usefulness to him was over."

Her eyes widened in terror and she tried again to shrink from his touch. She had been ready to face death, but the thought of what the sinister Espada might do to her made her feel weak all over. She could feel the man's lips moving to caress her ear, and with a shudder, she felt him lick up and down the shell. One hand reached down to rest on her bosom.

The door banged open and Szayel straightened with an oath. She heard Ulquiorra's monotone voice almost with a sense of relief. "What are you doing to Aizen-sama's prisoner, trash?"

"Eh, just checking her vital signs, Ulquiorra." The pink-haired man gave an obscene giggle and Orihime shivered. Then his voice dropped lower and he wheedled, "Ah, come now, Aizen-sama wouldn't know. He's not here, and when he gets here he's going to have other things to occupy him. He didn't install surveillance equipment in this outpost, after all."

Ulquiorra's voice remained toneless. "That's as far as you know." His eyes raked Szayel. "You would do well not to underestimate Aizen-sama." Szayel's eyes widened and his eyes flicked to the corners of the ceiling as if checking for hidden cameras there.

The black-haired Espada moved to the bedside and stood looking down at Orihime. "Are you feeling acceptably well?"

She pulled herself together. She would no longer be a terrified little girl in the hands of these evildoers. She glared at Ulquiorra from the bed. "Well enough to be released from these restraints!"

He remained silent for a moment, his gaze on hers. "I will not release you until you are ready. You need to be properly prepared for what has happened."

She struggled against her bonds in another futile attempt to raise her body. "What do you mean by prepared? All I need is to get out of this bed! Surely you're not afraid I'm going to escape! I just want to sit up so I can face you. Are you scared of letting me up?"

He looked at her dispassionately. "It is for your own protection that you are kept secured. What I am about to tell you may give you an emotional shock. Additionally, Aizen-sama ordered you be kept restrained so that you could be properly nourished this time." His green eyes slid over the curves of her body beneath the sheets.

Mingled fright, anger and guilt surged in her at his mention of Aizen. "You need to tell Aizen-sama that Gin lied to him! Tell him that I never would harm our child!" she urged. "Is that why he ordered me kidnapped? Because he was angry at me? But there was no reason for it! You need to tell him!" she repeated.

Ulquiorra looked at her, considering. "I am not in direct contact with Aizen-sama at this moment."

She stopped and took a breath, her eyes still wide. "But then… what does he want with me?"

"That is what I am about to tell you, if you would cease complaining and allow me to explain." He eyed her again and nodded as she subsided. "So. What was your last memory?"

She frowned, a little apprehensive about his words without knowing why. "Why, just last night when you came to me in my bedroom." Anger overwhelmed her once again. "Why did you kidnap me again?" Szayel, still standing at the head of the bed, gave another high-pitched giggle. Resolutely, she kept her eyes away from him and focused on Ulquiorra.

The black-haired Espada ignored her question. "No, it was not last night. I came to your apartment three weeks ago, woman."

She stared at him, panic gripping her by the throat. When she spoke again, it was in a squeak. "Wha- what? Three weeks? I've been unconscious for three weeks?"

"No." Ulquiorra's voice was flat as always. "You simply have no memory of the past three weeks, because you were operating the entire time under Aizen-sama's hypnotic suggestion."

XxXxXxX

**A/N:** Thanks to my recent reviewers, **KawaiPanda, cassjaerinmiyasha, Aoi-Kaji, Princess Teska, bunny201, Flare-Flare, El3v3n, , PLacidWickedness, Himeko, fadedsolitude28, Maybelline, BritishBrilliance, Airrieal, Aquarius Dragon, Olive, N, xoulblade, Onlynameleft, champylin, wanda lensherr, WesternMistress, MondayRain90, Gr8pes, moodymel, sokkenai, randomfan17, boho, aihime4evah, Twoformemories, ssapientia, LilyGirl101, ichihime shaz, miss quirky bookworm, OtakuZEO, nypsy, sweetdisaster, SasuNarulover49, Black Diamond07, tootsiepopgurl, ThePandaHat, Jess, BleachAsylum, CreationDestruction, Lonewingwriter, borisbear, **and** Eldar-Melda.**

I love your reviews and read them over and over again when I get depressed.


	17. Chapter 17

**The Challenge – Chap. 17**

(Originally posted 4/21/12, edited 8/13/12.)

XxXxXxX

"What?" Orihime stared at Ulquiorra in panic. The pale Espada leaned back so that the harsh fluorescents of the hospital room lit the planes and angles of his face. He continued to study Orihime, still firmly secured to her bed. She attempted to thrash within the restraints, but they were too secure. Without access to her hairpins, she was powerless. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that your actions have served Aizen-sama's plan, as usual." There was a note of long-suffering patience in Ulquiorra's voice. He glanced at the pink-haired Espada, still fiddling with the bank of equipment. "Leave us, Szayel."

The man opened his mouth and for a moment Orihime thought he would protest, but then he apparently thought better of it and merely inclined his head, striding out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

"What… what did I do?" Orihime's voice quavered despite her best efforts to hold it steady. The thought of having been under Aizen's control for three full weeks was terrifying. What horrible things could she have done, mindlessly obeying the will of a man with no morals or principles whatsoever? Could she have killed people? Hurt her friends?

Ulquiorra simply gazed at her, his green eyes dispassionate, waiting until she stopped struggling in the bonds. Then he moved to adjust a monitor beside the bed so that it was facing her, and turned it on. "Aizen-sama has ordered that you watch this video," he stated. "It will explain the part you played in his latest plans."

Orihime stared at him, suddenly chilled to the bone. If Aizen was explaining what she had done while under his control, it would no doubt be appalling. Aizen did not explain until it was too late, and he enjoyed watching his victims' horror and pain at his revelations. She realized that was likely why Ulquiorra was remaining in the room, so he could record her reactions and deliver them to Aizen later. But she could not help being curious. Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes to the screen. It appeared to be showing a newscast of some kind.

A young man in shinigami robes and a sleeveless kosode was seated behind a desk, his face serious. "Welcome to Seireitei Communications News, live from the Ninth Division. In our top story today, we bring you continuing coverage of the dramatic prison breakout that took place only a few hours ago at Soul Society's highest security prison, Muken. We go now to Kuna Mashiro, live on scene at Muken. Mashiro, over to you."

The video shifted to a dark, confused nighttime scene, smoke rising from damaged buildings in the background, sirens wailing, and voices shouting incoherently in the distance. In front of the camera, a harsh spotlight trained on her, stood a young girl with short green hair and large hazel eyes with dark circles beneath them. "We're seeing complete chaos here at Muken," she said, a hint of strain in her voice. "In the wake of the sudden attack by unknown assailants on Soul Society, and the death of over a hundred shinigami, including First Division Lieutenant Sasakibe Chojiro, guards had been diverted from Muken last night, leaving the prison with less than a full security complement. Very early this morning, a series of explosions devastated several sections of the prison, followed by the unauthorized entrance of two individuals, tentatively identified as former Espada Ulquiorra Cifer and human Inoue Orihime."

Orihime gasped as the scene shifted and displayed two mug shots of her face and Ulquiorra's side-by-side.

Mashiro brushed a lock of green hair out of her eyes and continued. "In the confusion, Cifer and Inoue were able to slip past or incapacitate the remaining guards and damage most of the security cameras at the prison, but the following surveillance video was recovered and the Ninth Division was able to obtain a copy."

On screen, the grainy video displayed a dark corridor within the prison. Two white-robed figures came running past, and to her horror, Orihime recognized herself, wearing her old Arrancar uniform, trailing Ulquiorra as the Espada fired a Cero at a camera mounted near the ceiling and then ran on. They stopped at a heavily barred door near the end of the corridor, and Orihime saw herself raise her hands as the glowing golden shield of her powers appeared over the lock mechanism of the door. A few seconds later, the door had swung open and the two figures had disappeared within.

There was a flicker onscreen, perhaps a splice in the video indicating the passage of time, and moments later, they reappeared, supporting between them a man dressed all in black. With a sharp intake of breath, Orihime recognized her former captor. Aizen was walking somewhat awkwardly, and the auburn-haired woman onscreen moved closer to him and placed his arm around her shoulders. The brown-haired man paused, and the screen clearly showed his affectionate smile as he looked down at her. Then he slowly and deliberately threaded his fingers through her hair and brought his lips to hers.

Orihime, her heart pounding, watched as the woman onscreen smiled back brilliantly, then tightened her arms around the man as she lifted her face and accepted his kiss eagerly. Beside them, Ulquiorra stood, expressionless as always. Aizen drew her head back and kissed her thoroughly and possessively, his long fingers visible alongside her cheeks as she cleaved to him. Watching, Orihime felt a flush creep up her neck to her face.

The voiceover continued. "Notorious criminal Aizen Sousuke, currently serving a 20,000-year term for betraying the Soul Society, appeared to have been the primary target of Cifer's and Inoue's strike. However, other prisoners throughout Muken are also missing, and a full list of escapees has not yet been released."

The scene changed once again and Mashiro glanced up at the camera. "Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryuusai, when reached at his office, indicated that Inoue Orihime had once been under suspicion of treason during the so-called Winter War. However, she had previously been cleared. Captain Yamamoto stated that this new evidence indicates that the case should be reopened."

A guard appeared in the corridor, shouting. The image of Ulquiorra calmly lifted a hand and fired a Cero point-blank. The guard fell to the ground, half his torso blown away. Orihime watched with a pang as the woman onscreen stepped over the body without a backward glance, her eyes focused only on the man beside her.

"When the substitute shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo, was reached for comment, he had this to say after viewing the video," continued the announcer.

Ichigo's familiar face filled the screen, scowling even more ferociously than usual. "That's ridiculous!" he shouted. "Inoue would never do something like that! It must have been Kyouka Suigetsu. That wasn't Inoue… she would never help the bastard who kidnapped her!"

The camera pulled back, showing the green-haired woman holding a microphone. She spoke into it, her voice unruffled. "Kyouka Suigetsu is Aizen Sousuke's zanpakutou, isn't it, that holds the power of illusion?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"Well, what would you say if I told you that the video I just showed you has been vetted by at least two shinigami who have never been exposed to Aizen Sousuke's shikai." She held the microphone up to Ichigo's lips.

The orange-haired youth looked distraught. "Well… I don't know." He rallied. "But it can't be Inoue. It must be some trick of Aizen's," he insisted.

The camera zoomed in on his face, and Orihime could clearly see his dismayed expression. She had to turn her head away from the screen, her eyes stinging. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ulquiorra staring at her, no doubt recording all her reactions for Aizen's later viewing pleasure.

Abruptly fierce anger jolted through her and she flung her head back as far as the restraints would allow. She would not cry in front of Ulquiorra, and she would not show weakness to Aizen.

Onscreen, the green-haired shinigami was continuing, "…and it is not known whether Aizen Sousuke's escape and the unknown assailants attacking Soul Society are connected."

Ulquiorra shut off the video and paused, looking at Orihime. "Did that guard survive?" she asked, her voice tight.

His green eyes locked on hers. "Does it matter?" His voice was neutral.

Orihime stared at him in fury. "Of course it does—to him, to his family… and to me."

Ulquiorra held her eyes for a minute longer, then nodded once. "He was found and healed shortly after our escape." His voice remained dispassionate. "Not that it is important, given that we encountered nothing but trash, but there were no deaths during our mission. It was quick and all went according to plan." He paused. "Does it disturb you that Aizen-sama used you in this way to break him out of prison?"

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "Disturb me?" she demanded. "Of course I knew you and Aizen would do something despicable once you had me under control. Am I supposed to be surprised or hysterical?" She tightened her lips. "Sorry to disappoint you. Can you get me out of the restraints now?"

The black-haired Espada showed no emotion. "Will you become agitated, try to escape, or attempt to resist my orders?" he asked.

Orihime glared more ferociously. "No."

His eyes searched her face. Satisfied with whatever he saw there, he nodded. "Very well. It is good that you are not emotionally distraught after all. You are even stronger than I remembered." He reached for the straps and began to release them.

Orihime watched as he began to unbind her, concentrating on her anger. She needed her anger now, her fury at being used again, to keep from breaking down. She would not break down. She would not cry. As she turned her head away, the import of the announcer's words finally hit her.

"What is all this about 'unknown assailants' attacking Soul Society?" asked Orihime, her curiosity getting the better of her. Ulquiorra was patiently undoing the straps one by one. He began to break the kidou holding each of them in place.

"A group calling itself 'Vandenreich' has threatened Soul Society," Ulquiorra explained in his toneless voice. "They have stated that Seireitei will be destroyed in five days."

Orihime started, eyes wide. "What? Is this Aizen's doing as well?"

Ulquiorra knelt to reach under the bed to release a long strap that wrapped all the way around Orihime's torso. "They have also invaded Hueco Mundo in Aizen-sama's absence, and he has directed me not to engage them at present. But I am not party to any further information. All I know is that they served as a useful distraction during our prison strike. You will need to speak to Aizen-sama yourself to learn more. He has not given me full details on his plans."

"I… will speak to Aizen-sama?" Orihime's voice cracked and dropped to a whisper. "I thought you said you weren't in contact with him."

"That is true at present." Ulquiorra's voice was muffled as it emerged from beneath the bed. "However, he has informed me that he will be returning to personally collect you shortly."

"Collect me?" Orihime's voice was bitter. "Yes, I was always no more than a tool to him, a thing to be collected and used, wasn't I?"

Ulquiorra straightened as he released the last strap and she finally was able to sit up. He looked her directly in the eye. For once there appeared to be something more than dispassionate conveyance of instructions in his voice. "No, I think you were quite aware you were more than that… until you angered him by destroying his offspring."

Orihime shook her head, frustrated. "I told you, Ulquiorra. Gin was lying. I never did anything to my own child. Loly and Menoly attacked me. They kicked me in the belly several times and I miscarried." She met his deep green gaze, her own eyes wide and determined. "I bled all over the place, and afterwards I couldn't feel any reiatsu from the baby." She remembered it, the raw agony of loss, her frantic and failed attempts to use her own powers, the awful taste in her mouth that didn't go away for weeks.

Ulquiorra had an expression on his face that might have been faint skepticism, and Orihime felt her anger stir again. Fiercely, she held onto it. "It should have been on all the surveillance cameras! Don't you have a record of Loly and Menoly's attack? And besides, where were you, anyway? You were supposed to be guarding me," she said pointedly.

The black-haired Espada sighed. "There was a failure of the surveillance system that afternoon. Your room was blacked out."

Orihime frowned. "Well, that's suspicious, isn't it? Somebody must have arranged that." Her expression turned into an accusing glower. "Maybe Aizen did it himself. He probably sent Loly and Menoly after me with one of his manipulations."

Ulquiorra had begun to look thoughtful. He shook his head. "No, Aizen-sama made it clear to me that he was interested in protecting his child." His eyes lifted to her face. "If this is the truth, you need to inform Aizen-sama. It is not appropriate for one such as him to be fed misinformation."

Orihime swung her legs out of the bed and put her hands on her hips. "That's what I've been telling you from the beginning."

"Although," Ulquiorra remarked, "I would be surprised if he trusted in your words."

She glared at him again and tossed her head. "Well, that's his business if he chooses to believe a lie over the truth. Now, what else did I do under his control? Did I hurt anybody?" She held her breath.

Ulquiorra, his face still uncharacteristically thoughtful, was staring off into the distance. He brought his gaze back to Orihime. "No. I was watching you the entire time. I kept you away from your friends most of the time, and did not allow anyone to harm you, nor to force you into situations your heart would object to. Aizen-sama's primary use for you was for your unique power to help break him out of prison. He allowed me latitude in how I carried out that assignment." His gaze lingered on her face. "Are you relieved?"

She let out her breath. "I am." She wasn't sure why, but she trusted Ulquiorra. "Thank you. I was afraid that he had made me kill someone."

He held her eyes with his. "That would have been more distressing than your role in breaking a condemned prisoner out of jail?"

Orihime exhaled. Then she looked away. Ulquiorra still didn't understand. "Of course."

XxXxXxX

Orihime sat quietly on the neatly made bed in the windowless, locked room. The walls were a blank, utilitarian gray; the floor white and featureless. There was nothing in the room but a narrow bed and a single dark green plastic chair with a low end table beside it. The only thing that marred the bareness of the walls was a pocket door leading to a tiny bathroom. She had been imprisoned here for three days, with no news from the outside and no contact with anyone other than Ulquiorra, who brought her meals three times a day but refused to give her any information.

She was incredibly bored. There was nothing to do in the tiny room. Sometimes she thought she would claw her throat out with boredom. It was worse than her imprisonment in Las Noches; at least there she had a window and had been allowed to keep her hairpins, so that she could sense reiatsu flows. Here, with her limited perceptions without her fairies, all she could detect was that the walls were lined with sekki-sekki, so that her own reiatsu could not be detected from outside. She supposed she was somewhere in Hueco Mundo, but due to the sekki-sekki, she could not sense spirit particle densities.

She was hungry. The meals were inadequate, as usual. Ulquiorra, like most people, didn't realize how much more food than a normal human she needed to sustain herself, and in her pride she had refrained from asking him for more.

He had warned her not to try to escape, that he could not restrain Szayel if he came upon her wandering in the corridors, but it hardly mattered, since without her powers she could not break the lock on her door.

She paced to one side of the room and then back. All she could do was exercise and sleep, and she had done both until she was thoroughly sick of each. When she complained to Ulquiorra, he had stared at her and remarked that Aizen-sama had had to endure far worse in the bowels of Muken. Finally, he had given her a pad of paper and a pencil, tonelessly ordering her to amuse herself with that.

Restlessly, she picked up the pad from the bedside table and sat on the bed, staring off into space. There were only so many pencil games she could play. Sighing in frustration, she let the tablet slip from her hands and fall to the ground as she slumped back on the bed.

There was an odd echo from the pad's fall. It was repeated, and she sat up suddenly. That was no echo. There were noises from outside, loud, staccato bursts. She realized with a shock it was the sound of explosions. The building shook, and the noise came closer. What was going on? She wished once again for her hairpins; she felt so blind and helpless without her powers.

She heard voices in the hall, angry shouting, and more explosions. Doors were flung open and banged against the wall. The footsteps were coming nearer.

Hastily looking around the tiny room, Orihime got up, tipped the bed on its side, and crouched down behind it. It wouldn't afford her much protection from a kidou blast, but it was better than nothing.

She heard the rattling of her doorknob, and then an incredibly loud bang as someone blasted the lock off the door. She crouched, hardly daring to breathe, as she heard the footsteps of men rushing into the room.

She held her breath, waiting, as footsteps approached her hiding place and paused. She could hear her heart beating so loudly that surely it must have been heard by everyone in the room. She hunched lower and remained still. A motion caught her eye, some type of weapon moving slowly over the top of the bed. She looked up and saw the unsmiling face of an Arrancar with an ugly half-mask, unshaven jaw and buzz cut, cautiously peering down at her.

He lowered his weapon, snickering, as he saw only Orihime crouched behind the bed, unarmed. She was wearing her summer clothes now, having been eager to shed the Arrancar uniform earlier. Now she almost wished for something that would cover her more thoroughly. She hadn't liked the look in the man's eyes as he took in her short shorts and thigh-highs. Suddenly, fashion was a lot less important than survival. But she stared back at the man defiantly, refusing to lower her eyes.

He grinned. "Hey, look what I found here," he called out to his comrades.

Another Arrancar peered over the bed. "Get out from behind there," he ordered her, and slowly, she rose and moved to stand with the wall to her back. He looked her up and down, annoyance in his expression. Orihime's eyes flicked between him and his companions. There were three of them, identically attired in some kind of light brown uniform she did not recognize, all bearing those odd weapons. Their faces were hard and hostile. They were not like the Arrancar she had met during her last trip to Hueco Mundo. With her limited perceptions, she could detect they had some level of spiritual power, but to what degree, she had no idea. Nor did she know whom they served; most likely not Aizen, she suspected. What had happened here while he was in prison? She had not realized how much she had come to depend on her spiritual powers in the months she had possessed them.

Now, blind and helpless, she firmed her lips and faced down the men threatening her, silently enduring their scrutiny.

The one who had found her first still had a brutish grin on his scarred face under the bone mask. "I say we take her with us," he suggested to the other, who seemed to be the leader.

The other man turned away. "No," he said dismissively. "We continue on to our primary objective." He looked back at the first man. "Kill her." He spun on his heels, followed by the third man, and left the room.

The first man scowled, then shrugged. He raised the weapon, pointing it between Orihime's eyes. Frantically, Orihime cast around for some form of defense. Could she call her shield into existence even without her hairpins? Maybe her fairies would respond to her call? She reached out mentally only to once again find nothing; her powers were not accessible to her. The weapon seemed to move in slow motion and she knew she had only seconds to live.


	18. Chapter 18

**The Challenge – Chap. 18**

**A/N:** This chapter is dedicated to **Flare-Flare,** one of the most dedicated AiHime fans ever. I hope you feel better soon, Flarie…

(Originally posted 5/5/12, edited 8/13/12.)

XxXxXxX

The uniformed humanoid Arrancar pointed his weapon directly between her eyes. His face was blank as his finger tightened on the trigger.

Orihime cried out, "Wait!" Racking her brain for some idea, anything, she burst out, "You're throwing away a fortune in ransom money!" Then she winced internally. Clichéd, she thought, and not likely to have much of an impact on a Hollow who didn't care about money.

The creature paused and his weapon wavered. A faintly puzzled look crossed his face. "You don't look like anyone important," he sneered.

Orihime attempted a mysterious and confident smile. "Why do you think I've been locked up in this facility? Have you found any other prisoners here?" she asked, gambling that she was indeed the only human here.

She could see the slow wheels turning behind his piggish eyes. "Huh. That's true." He stared at her and the seconds ticked away. Then… "Naw…" he decided and raised the weapon again.

While he was hesitating, her mind had been racing ahead with ideas for her plan. She tried again. "The others have gone ahead. You don't need to share the ransom money with them," she urged, cajoling. "Actually, you could just wait a short while and kill me later." She took a step forward and tilted her head to one side. "I'm defenseless and can't do anything to you."

He eyed her breasts, still considering. "Yeah…" he muttered. "Seems a shame to waste…"

There were sounds of more banging and shouting from the corridor, and the man seemed to come to a decision. His jaw firmed and his eyes hardened. He lifted the weapon.

Orihime tensed her muscles, wondering which way she should jump.

There was a pop from the door, and the creature stiffened. His eyes bugged out, and his finger twitched, but it was no longer on the trigger. He gasped and crumpled in front of her, choking, stumbling forward onto one knee, a gurgling sound emanating from his throat. Dark red blood bloomed on his uniform. As he folded, Orihime's eyes went to the man standing at the door, dressed in the white robes she remembered all too well, his sword held loosely in his grasp, a serene expression on his face.

The man smiled at her. He slid the sword into a sheath at his hip and rested a long-fingered hand lightly on the doorjamb as he regarded her from deep brown eyes. His calm expression was unchanged. Even in the middle of a battle, having just killed someone, not a lock of his brown hair was out of place. "My dear Orihime," Aizen said softly. "A pleasure to see you again."

Orihime's eyes had gone wide. Frozen, she stared at the man she last remembered seeing when he threatened to destroy her hometown. For a moment, she believed she was back in one of her nightmares where he was standing once more before her. She swallowed, and her voice came out in a squeak. "Wha- What are you doing here?" Her voice quavered and she cursed herself for saying something so inane.

But Aizen's smile only widened. "What, Orihime, no protestations of gratitude for saving your life?" he asked, mock-sorrowful.

"Where are we?" Orihime didn't know why her brain felt so slow.

"We're at the very outskirts of Hueco Mundo," he returned, raising a brow. "I regret you had to wait so long, and that I neglected to inform you that Las Noches has been taken by the enemy, who have suborned many of my own former army," he gestured at the dead man on the floor, "but there have been many uncertainties in my plan for me to be completely forthcoming. I have had to deal with a number of …complications… before I could come to rescue you."

At that, Orihime felt anger well up in her again. "Rescue me?" she demanded. "Um, excuse me, but it seems to me I was your prisoner here, which is why I was a sitting duck for whoever those guys were who came to kill me." She glared at Aizen, whose amused expression did not falter. "And really, stabbing him?" she sniffed. "That's a big step down from using your spiritual pressure to defeat your enemies."

Aizen gestured at the walls of her cell, a rueful expression crossing his face. "The sekki-sekki here restricts my spiritual pressure, which is admittedly lower than usual due to my recent imprisonment." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, would you prefer to stand here bantering until this gentleman's," he prodded the body on the floor with his toe, "friends return? Or do you wish to escape?"

Orihime's eyes narrowed. "Escape? With you?"

The brown-haired man sighed. "Yes, my dear. If you haven't noticed, this building is under attack. I assure you, these people are quite willing to kill either of us on sight. Or were you not aware that we are fugitives from justice and that Hueco Mundo has been taken by my enemies?"

Involuntarily, Orihime glanced down at the man on the floor. Her heart was still pounding from her near-death experience. It could all be another one of Aizen's tricks… but she had been his prisoner anyway. Could he have staged this whole scene to gain her sympathy? She looked up at him, searching his face, which bore only a look of polite inquiry. Sighing, she realized she had no choice. She was bound to him now in any event, as he had made abundantly clear with the comment about 'fugitives from justice.'

She nodded, tightening her lips. "Very well. I'll go with you." She glared at him.

He cocked his head. "So suspicious." He sighed ostentatiously. "I suppose I deserve it." He gestured politely to the door. "After you, my dear."

She walked out into the long white corridor, the space between her shoulder blades tingling as he closed the door behind her.

Behind her, she could hear shouts and banging, and footsteps running in their direction. With an intake of breath, she glanced at Aizen.

"Now," he said, raising his eyebrows at her, "we run."

Taking her hand, he led the two of them down the corridor at a brisk sprint.

XxXxXxX

Panting, Orihime pounded down the corridors, her hand held tightly by warm, strong fingers. She tried not to think about with whom she was escaping. Behind them, she heard a shout, and redoubled her pace.

It seemed like the long white corridors were never-ending, as they ducked down a side passage and continued running. Behind her, she could hear multiple pounding feet.

They burst out a side door into a narrow alley between buildings and Aizen pulled her to the right. Above them hung the unchanging night sky of Hueco Mundo. She was gasping for breath as they ran across the sand to where Ulquiorra stood beside a long, black gash in the sky. Aizen lifted her onto an odd platform in the garganta, then slipped in behind her.

Ulquiorra sat down beside them and began directing the flying-carpet-like object. It reminded her of the first trip with Urahara. At least she was able to sit down.

Orihime sank back against the edge of the platform and tried to catch her breath. Aizen was watching her carefully.

"You need to have your powers back, my dear," he murmured. "Without flash step, you're rather vulnerable."

She glared at him. "And who was it who ordered them taken away? Where are my hairpins?"

He eyed her speculatively. "If I return your hairpins to you, will you give me your word you will not try to escape, nor attack me or Ulquiorra?"

"Why should I do that?" She folded her arms across her chest. "Will you tell me what's going on? Who were those men? And where are we going now?"

He looked amused. "Very well. I'll start with some explanations. I have always had several bases in various locations in Hueco Mundo as well as in Karakura Town. It's only recently that my organization has been under attack in all of the worlds."

He leaned back in the seat as Ulquiorra changed directions and accelerated. They were moving rapidly in some odd inter-dimensional space. Bizarre shadows like huge structures zipped past on either side; if Orihime looked too closely the shapes dissipated into a formless mist. It was disturbing so she looked back at Aizen. "Soi Fon and the secret mobile corps tracked me down rather swiftly, much to my chagrin. I have been setting up various diversions in the past few days, but apparently she cut a deal with a local group that sprung up in Hueco Mundo after I was imprisoned." He frowned. "Those are the Hollows who almost killed you in the room back there. It irritates me that my own creations have turned on me, and my loyal followers have suffered quite a few casualties."

Orihime swallowed, wondering how much of what he said was true.

"Additionally, it appears that even the local police in Karakura Town have been brought into the act. I must say, Soi Fon has improved." He smiled at her. "There are warrants out for both of our arrests."

Orihime caught her breath. It was nothing more than she had suspected; still, it was distressing to suddenly be a wanted criminal in two jurisdictions. She glared ferociously into the man's brown eyes. "That's _your_ doing," she accused. "You deliberately left that video camera undamaged, to make it look like I planned to break you out of prison." She glared at him. "And you kissed me as part of your plan."

His smile widened. "What, Orihime, you don't believe that I might kiss you out of delight in your presence after nearly two years of imprisonment?" He placed a hand over his heart mockingly. "You wound me."

She narrowed her eyes. "You set me up to be called a traitor by Soul Society and a criminal in my own home town. You forced me to kiss you…"

Aizen shifted closer to her, bending his face to hers, one hand stroking her cheek. She shrank away from his touch and held very still. His lips brushed her ear. "Was it truly forced, my dear?" he whispered. "I thought you enjoyed my touch, once…"

She stiffened and tried to move as far away from him as she could, her eyes blazing. Her heart must surely be pounding because of the pursuit and escape from death, not because of the nearness of her former lover and enemy. The tingling in her body must surely be from adrenaline, nothing else. Aizen's fingers brushed her throat and she caught her breath.

Damn her traitorous body. Pulling herself together, she scowled at the face only inches away from hers. "That was a long time ago. I was young and foolish." She scooted away from him again, pressing against the edge of the platform. "And this time, you hypnotized me and took control of me!" She narrowed her eyes in sudden suspicion. "What else did you do to me, besides kissing?"

Aizen chuckled. "Do not fret, Orihime." He leaned back, away from her, still regarding her with those intense eyes. "Despite my being isolated without companionship for so long, I suppressed my natural instincts upon finding myself in your close proximity. Nothing happened between us other than that kiss… " His eyes lit with wicked amusement. "Although I did consider letting you think it did."

At her outraged intake of breath, Aizen murmured, "But you know me too well, Orihime. You know I would find no pleasure in making love with a puppet."

She flushed, and then lowered her eyes. There was a pause. "It's true; I was more worried you had made me kill someone," she admitted.

"Did you notice I refrained from arranging something like that?" He raised a brow. "I needed you for a particular task; once that was done, I had no need to be cruel."

"It was cruel to kidnap me once again. It was cruel to turn everyone I know against me by framing me as a traitor," she hissed. "You've isolated me from everyone I know."

He smirked at that. "I require your power," he pointed out. "I needed a way to bind you to me while I am still recovering from the effects of my imprisonment. There was no intent to be needlessly cruel." She continued to glare at him, and his smile broadened. "Come now. There is nothing to be gained by pointless resistance, Orihime. What's done is done, and the days ahead will be difficult. We'll be thrown together in any event. Why don't we agree to at least be civil to each other for the duration?"

He sounded so reasonable. Orihime glared. "Why do you want to be civil to me anyway? In that scene from Ulquiorra's eye, you said you thought I killed my own child. Your child."

A look of what seemed to be regret crossed the chiseled features beside her. "Ah. I admit that Gin tricked me. He later confessed the truth—after he stabbed me." There was a faint note of what might have been bitterness in his voice, shading into contrition. "I soon realized that I had misjudged you, as well as Gin." Now there was bemusement in his tone. "Forgive my doubts, Orihime."

She stared at him, her chest heaving. Was Aizen actually asking her to forgive him? That was not something he ever did. He must be attempting to manipulate her again. She gritted her teeth against the wave of compassion that was threatening to arise in her heart. She reminded herself to be strong, to keep from believing his lies.

He studied her face and continued, "I should have known from the beginning you would never take the life of your unborn child. I admit I was… distracted by the Hougyoku and its promise of unlimited power." His voice was soft and gentle and tinged with regret. He sighed. "I am sorry that I had to have Ulquiorra show you that scene, but I had pre-recorded it before I left to hypnotize you and had no choice."

She narrowed her eyes, holding on to her anger, refusing to allow the ever-present sorrow at the loss of her child to surface. "You always have a choice."

He leaned back in his seat and studied her carefully. "Indeed. Knowing now that I was mistaken, that my actions towards you were erroneous… that I now wish to apologize to you for my cruelty in the fifth tower… do you still wish that I were languishing in Soul Society's prison?"

She reminded herself to harden her heart, that his apology must be false. She turned her eyes away. "You committed crimes. You murdered people."

She could feel him studying her profile. He reached forward, and before she could pull it away, he had taken one of her hands in his. His fingers were strong and warm. She wanted to yank her hand away from his, but she suddenly felt boneless. Was he playing games with his spiritual pressure again? Yet she could feel nothing of his reiatsu. It could not only be her blunted perceptions. He had furled it so tightly she could sense nothing. Why, then, did she feel the familiar tingling in her flesh wherever his skin lay against hers? Why was she leaving her hand in his?

"A black mark," he agreed, "which I share with many of the warriors in Soul Society, as well as your own nakama."

She turned her head, her eyes blazing into his. "There was a difference! They fought in self-defense! You planned those killings in cold blood!"

"You have not heard the reason behind my killings, my choice to rebel against Soul Society," he pointed out in a mild tone of voice.

Angrily, she turned her head away. She would not listen to his smooth lies. "I'm not going to believe anything you say."

He sighed. "I won't deny that I deserve your cavalier treatment. It's true I have done many terrible things. But… Orihime… I would like to begin again, if I may. I would like to ask you to please give me a chance."

She folded her arms and kept looking away.

His hand reached out and began stroking her hair. She stiffened and tried to move away, but could not help herself. She felt herself yearning for his touch once again, and she cursed herself for a whore. She was like her mother, after all, being led by the nose through her physical desires despite her rational mind. Hot tears came to her eyes suddenly. How could her body react this way to this man, after all the things he had done, after he had shown her his true face and his cruelty?

She kept her face turned away, staring blindly out the side of the floating platform, but his touch on her hair continued to electrify her. She would not give in. She would not show him what she was feeling. They sat in silence as Ulquiorra kept on guiding them. Orihime resolutely watched the odd shapes go by on both sides of the platform. She refused to speak, and Aizen kept silence as well, waiting for her with his much-vaunted patience.

Finally she could keep silent no longer. "Where are we going?" she questioned.

"A safe house that I control. We can rest there tonight, and then continue on in the morning. We need to shake our pursuers." He glanced behind them.

She turned too, looking behind them, but saw nothing. "How can they tail us through a dimensional rift? And why is it taking so long to get wherever we're going? I thought your powers could create instantaneous travel," she inquired.

His face became unreadable for a moment, and then he shrugged. "My powers are not what they have been. Prison has taken its toll on me."

"Are we staying in Hueco Mundo?"

"No. Most of Hueco Mundo is closed to me now."

Ah yes. The 'unknown assailants' of Soul Society had also invaded Hueco Mundo.

"What are your plans now?"

He smiled. "That, my dear, I would be happy to share with you once you agree to at least a temporary truce. It would make things substantially difficult otherwise." He fell silent once again, waiting.

She continued looking straight ahead, her thoughts tumbling over each other. It was true that if she attempted to escape from him now, she had nowhere to go. She had no doubt he was planning to use her in some nefarious way, but maybe if she appeared to go along with him, he would give her more information that she could use to avoid being completely trapped in his coils. Finally she sighed. Above all else, she was curious. Who were these new enemies of Soul Society? And what was Aizen planning with them? "All right," she acknowledged, glaring at him. "I will agree to work with you for now, as long as you promise not to make any… unwanted advances."

The smirk was back on his face. "I promise," he agreed. "Very well, we have a truce. I will show good faith by taking the first step. How if I start by telling you an important truth?"

Her eyes flashed to his, full of suspicion, and he raised his eyebrows. "You see," he continued, a charming smile on his face, "I am actually completely at your mercy. Not only is my power restricted, and somewhat damaged by my long imprisonment, but I am in a gigai that hides my spiritual pressure, because there is a tracer implanted in my soul. If I were to release my reiatsu, Soi Fon's men would detect it instantly, and I would be their prisoner once again."

Her eyes were wide. "You mean—"

"Yes," he admitted lightly. "I have no spiritual power. That is why I had to use my sword simply to cut rather than my spiritual pressure. Until I can remove the tracer, and restore my powers, I am quite helpless." He smiled at her with a rueful quirk of his lips. "So you see, I am trusting you with quite a vulnerability." He regarded her, appraisingly. "I do hope you will not take advantage of me." The charming smile flashed out once again.

Orihime stared at him. Was he lying again? She could not imagine him admitting being so vulnerable. Or did he assume that she was incapable of hurting someone weaker than her?

Still smiling, he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a small box. Unlatching it, he flipped the lid back and she gasped as a wave of power washed over her.

Inside were her hairpins. Aizen held the box out to her. "Here. Another gesture of good faith. Now, you are more powerful than I am." His eyes held hers.

Hesitantly, she reached out, scooped up her hairpins. Re-inserting them in her hair, she felt the surge of power and awareness as her fairies connected with her. _Is it true?_ she asked Baigon. _Is he truly powerless?_

The response came back immediately. _I detect no spiritual power emanating from him… however, it could merely be concealed._

Aizen chuckled, observing her as her expanded senses and powers settled back into her consciousness. "Much better," he murmured. "I always preferred you as the woman with the powers of a god." His eyes glittered as he regarded her.

She glared at him. "Aren't you afraid?" she demanded. "I could attack you now, and destroy a major threat to Soul Society."

He smiled with that relaxed arrogance that never failed to both infuriate and attract her. "Indeed. However, I trust you, Orihime."

"I thought you said one should never trust anyone."

Amusement flooded his eyes. "Prison can change a man," he murmured. He turned to face her fully, reaching out with one hand to stroke her jaw, draw her closer to him. His slender fingers caressed her cheek in a gesture that made her blush with its intimacy, and she could not stop herself from turning into him slightly. Panicked, she stared into his dark brown eyes, so near to her, as he closed the distance between them.

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**A/N:** Thanks to anonymous reviewer Aoi-Kaji (your wish is granted! and thanks for the condolences) and to everyone who has been reviewing this story.


	19. Chapter 19

**The Challenge – Chap. 19**

**A/N:** One of my contest winners, **El3v3n**, chose as her prize that I continue this story.

So here is your chapter, **El3v3n**! I hope you enjoy it. :D And thank you for participating in my contest.

(Originally posted 6/3/12, edited 8/13/12.)

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He was holding her, pinning her against the seat, as she stared back at him, furious, unmoving, her gaze trapped by his as he moved closer. His eyes were intense; she was losing herself in their darkness, that beautiful deep dark rich brown… As her body was pinned by his careless strength, so were her eyes, unable to look away from the depth and power of his, as they came closer and closer...

Then his lips were on hers and her body exploded with sensation. Every cell of her body was tingling as though an electric current were flowing through her flesh from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes. She could feel her heart pounding against the man pressed against her, chest to chest, warm, warm and alive. She breathed in his unique scent, and it stirred up memories she had long suppressed, memories of the time she spent as this man's captive, the old mingled excitement, fear, shame, and secret thrill...

She should be pushing him away… She should be…

In a rush, all her longing from the past, empty months came pouring back into her body, all the loneliness, all the sorrow that she had been pushing away… it rose up in her throat to choke her. She felt her flesh molding to the man pinning her against the seat, felt an inexplicable solace at being held in the arms of her enemy; oddly, even though she knew he was powerless, she felt wholly in his power and yet utterly protected… she realized it felt as though she had been dehydrated and was finally having her thirst quenched. As though she had been deficient in some essential nutrient and now, now it was finally flooding her body after months of deprivation.

She opened her mouth and allowed him to deepen the kiss.

He hummed deep in his throat as he pressed against her. His lips moved against her, his tongue teased her, not dominating and possessive as she might have expected, but soft and sweet and gentle, their lips and tongues dancing together, caressing, meeting, giving and taking, and she was hungry, hungry for more…

Suddenly, she realized what she was doing. Again.

Angrily, she pushed him away, panting, and glared at him ferociously. He was fooling her again with his marvelous acting, lying to her with his body as well as his words, making her believe that he might have changed. But she was not so foolish as to fall for him a second time. No, she had learned her lesson.

He returned her gaze with a faint smirk twisting his mouth, his lips ever so slightly swollen from the kiss. She could not tear her eyes away from his full lips; all she wanted was to lean into them again.

"No!" she cried. "You said no unwanted advances."

Aizen straightened, the amused half-smile still on his face. "Indeed. Your actions appeared to indicate my advances were… not unwanted."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're playing games with me again."

Aizen sighed. "Is there no hope for reconciliation between us?" He held her eyes. "Is there nothing I can say or do to convince you that I have indeed changed?"

She shook her head, stubbornly looking away.

"Nothing whatsoever could change your mind?" Now there was a hint of sadness in his voice, and he trailed off into a long, deep sigh. "But can you not see that in the event I am telling you the truth, you are giving me no chance to prove myself? That's somewhat unjust, you must admit," he said softly.

Orihime stared at him, chagrined. He did have a point, a small voice deep within her murmured. Agony twisted inside her and she felt herself weakening. Again she cursed herself. She was weak, vacillating, foolish, overly trusting. How could she do this? What hold did he have over her? She had her powers back, and he had nothing. She could destroy him in a single blow. All she had to do was call on her fairies, attack him. At the very least she should push him away, get away from him, and run…

As the silence stretched between them, she made no move to escape, and her eyes could not turn away from his.

He was studying her face, his eyes pensive. Slowly, he took her hand in his. It was warm, and again she was unable to pull away. When his lips parted one more time, she found herself focused on every movement of that expressive mouth.

"Sensory deprivation, Orihime. Do you know what that means?"

She shook her head, a little bewildered by the change in subject.

"They have sensory deprivation tanks in the world of the living," he continued, his eyes on her. "There have been studies showing that more than 24 hours under such conditions can damage the human mind. As a matter of fact, placing prisoners in a sensory deprivation tank is forbidden by your Geneva Convention as well as by most governments in your world. It is considered a form of torture."

She stared at him, wondering where he was going with this. His voice remained utterly calm and placid. "When a person is placed in a sensory deprivation tank, after about a day, the breakdown of their mind begins as they start to experience hallucinations. Vivid, extreme, often disturbing sensory imagery across all five of the senses. These hallucinations are the first sign that a primal need of the human brain is not being met."

Her eyes widened, puzzled and distressed.

He continued, "Then comes the panic, abject fear rising from the most primitive centers of the brain. A warning sign that something is seriously wrong. The panic spreads until it swamps the brain. Until there is no recourse, no turning back, no way out. After some time of this type of uninterrupted emotional overload, the very structure of the mind begins to degenerate, until all the neural circuits are permanently scrambled."

"That's terrible, but…" she began, but he squeezed her hand briefly to indicate that he was not yet finished.

"When Soul Society placed me in prison," he continued, his eyes locked on hers, "they bound me not only with reiatsu limiters, but with sensory seals. They locked me away from all five of my physical senses as well as from my reiatsu sensing abilities." He held her eyes. "I could not even move within the bindings in my cell." He paused, searching her face.

"They kept me in a state of sensory deprivation, not for 24 hours, not for 24 days, but for seventeen months."

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly open. "But—" she whispered.

"I survived," he overrode her faint murmur, "because I have spent decades disciplining my mind. I have long practiced a number of meditation techniques each day, and I used that discipline to keep structure within my mind." He nodded slightly. "Sensory deprivation becomes painful and damaging for most people very rapidly, within no more than a few days at most." He raised an eyebrow at her and a hint of arrogance washed across his face. "But in my case, for a long period of time I was able to keep the mental degeneration at bay, and to utilize the time for more deep thinking and useful contemplation." His smile faded. "But after some period of time, likely a few months, the nothingness, pure, absolute emptiness and darkness, began to affect me. You cannot imagine what it is like, to be in such a void, sensing nothing, absolutely nothing, for so long."

"…Nothing?" she faltered. "They kept you in prison without letting you sense anything?" Surely he must be lying, she told herself. "You could at least taste the food you ate," she accused.

"Orihime," Aizen said gently, "When they realized I was immortal, they decided they would not bother to trouble themselves with feeding me. Every part of me was bound, and I was not even visited in my cell by the guards for months on end."

Her mouth had dropped open as she stared at him. "But that's… that's… horrible," she cried.

Aizen merely raised one eyebrow at her. "Soul Society is not known for keeping its prisoners under humane conditions. As an organization, they have long believed in the preservation of their culture and 'balance' over any one individual's needs." There was a faint bitterness in his voice. "This sensory deprivation technique has been used before by Soul Society," he continued relentlessly, "on those they deem too dangerous to live. I have seen prisoners being released from such confinements." He raised his eyebrows. "After thirty days, none of them could speak. One man I encountered could only drool… and scream."

She stared at him. She was trying hard to keep up a barrier against her native compassion for him, but the horror of the prison sentence was shocking and upsetting. She could feel her resolve crumbling. Suddenly, pity overwhelmed her. "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry." She shook her head. "That's just so wrong."

Aizen's face was expressionless now. "But surely I deserve such treatment for my crimes?" he inquired.

A frown creased Orihime's forehead. "Nobody deserves such treatment," she declared. "It goes against basic human rights. Even in the world of the living we don't do that to criminals. Torture is wrong."

"As I have long believed," said Aizen with a level gaze at Orihime. "Among everything I have done, all the crimes I have committed, torture has never been something I condoned." Gone was the banter of his earlier remarks. His tone was completely serious now, almost colorless.

Orihime stared at him. She could not have been mistaken about his nature. She still did not trust him. But the thought of him going through such a terrible experience… even as evil as he might be… she felt the floodgates of her soul open, and with them the treacherous feelings of her body swirled into her. Part of her wanted to forgive him, wanted to find an excuse to fall into his arms again… to her distress, she felt heat rising in her body once more, and she wanted nothing more than to curl into his heat.

She realized she had been slowly inching toward where he sat. She took a deep breath and held still.

He continued to look at her, his face completely neutral. How could he do that, she wondered again, be so calm when they were discussing such a terrible, emotional subject? A frightening thought struck her.

"Did you…" she whispered, "I mean, was your mind…?"

"Did I go insane?" he inquired placidly, both eyebrows lifting slightly. There was absolutely no expression on his face. "Am I out of control now?"

She stared at him, suddenly frightened again.

Then his old smirk was back. "You mean, even more than I already was?" The humor was back in his voice. He shifted in his seat, and now his expression was open, laughing.

Orihime essayed a tentative smile in return, her body still tense.

He exhaled. "No. No, Orihime, I retained my sanity by means of… a new development. Believe it or not, I actually developed a new power while bound in that prison." He smiled again at her, a smirk full of his old utter confidence. "I have long had an unusual ability to retain memories of sensory impressions," he explained, "an ability necessary for me to wield Kyouka Suigetsu. In order to take control of another's sensory inputs, I need to be able to generate a sufficiently rich tapestry of sensory information to make the illusion convincing.

"I have long worked on improving that skill, as it seemed to be forever outside my grasp to create a fully-convincing illusion. There were always little details that eluded me, small clues that would make it obvious to my opponents that something was not quite right."

His smile broadened. "It was," he murmured, "an annoying weakness." His voice gained strength. "But by imprisoning me in conditions of sensory deprivation, Soul Society enabled me to evolve my powers further. Driven by extreme conditions of privation, my brain found that in order to survive, it had become essential to perfect that one ability that had evaded me for so long." He leaned back, stretched one arm out along the edge of the platform languidly. "After a while, I found that I could return to any memory I had acquired at any point during my life, and generate a complete set of sensory impressions, richly detailed in all aspects of all the five senses. In short, I now had the ability to create a perfect illusion." The arrogance had returned to his voice in full force as his gaze was no longer on her, but far beyond her. "And by mentally visiting these perfect illusions I satisfied my mind's need for sensory input." He paused.

Orihime stared at him. He looked handsome, charismatic, and dangerous once again, as he focused on the far distance, his eyes on a vision only he could see. What did he intend to do now with this new power? Was he still intent on overthrowing all of Soul Society, on becoming a god? She shivered, realizing she could not help but admire him for somehow being able to turn even imprisonment and torture to his own advantage. She wondered again at the complexity of her emotions for this man. Did she fear him, hate him, love him, admire him, pity him…? Or all of the above?

His eyes dropped to hers and he focused on her, smiling. He lowered his voice, and it vibrated along her bones, rich, deep, and thrilling. "But along the way… I discovered something even more important." His smile was focused exclusively on her, and she was helpless before it. "I revisited the memories of my youth, of times of importance in my life…" He picked up both her hands again and cradled them in his, but this time, she scarcely noticed, so intent was she on his words. "Most especially, I revisited the times I spent with you."

His gaze slowly traveled over her face, his expression open and reflective now. She was transfixed, her eyes wide. "I realized, Orihime, for the first time in my life, that I was experiencing regret. Regret," he whispered, bringing the back of one of her hands to his cheek, stroking it gently, "that I did not fully understand what I felt about you."

He sighed and glanced away for a moment, not releasing her hands. "I had no idea that it was only seventeen months that I was imprisoned, Orihime. In the darkness of that cell, it felt like I lived my entire life over again multiple times." He paused and returned his intense gaze to her. "And I have lived more than two centuries, Orihime."

She took in a ragged breath.

His gaze burned into her. "I am telling you this because in subjective time it has been nearly a millennium since we last met, Orihime. Surely… surely it is possible for a man to change over a thousand years, would you not agree?" His eyes bored into hers as he clasped her fingers, and she swallowed.

"I—" she began, then faltered. Her eyes searched his face, and deep within his eyes, she saw something she had never seen before. "I—" she tried again.

A daylight slash appeared in the air in front of them and the platform tipped them out onto a sidewalk in a busy downtown street in Karakura Town. They had appeared in front of a huge skyscraper, the name of one of the largest hotels in the city on the awning before them.

Startled, Orihime looked back at her companion. "I thought you said we were going to a _house_?" she squeaked before she could fully think about what she was saying.

"A safe house, my dear, is simply the language for a secure place to rest while, as you might say in the human world, 'on the lam.'" He smiled at her serenely. "I own this hotel, and have installed multiple safeguards on the premises. We will be safe here."

She gaped at the huge building. "But—"

But Aizen was no longer listening. He leaned forward to address Ulquiorra. "Let's go around the corner. There is a locked and armored garage where we can enter securely and get out of public view." He glanced back at Orihime. "And a private elevator to my personal suite." His lips curled. "I believe you will find it to your liking."


	20. Chapter 20

**The Challenge – Chap. 20**

(Originally posted 6/15/12, edited 8/13/12.)

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Orihime had never seen such luxury.

Although she did not come into contact with wealth that frequently, even she could see that Aizen's hotel suite simply exuded opulence. After a private elevator ride into an elegant foyer, she walked into the main room somewhat hesitantly, feeling the thick, soft carpet underneath her feet. At the end of the spacious room was a row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a dramatic view of Karakura Town from thirty stories up. Every fixture in the room, even every bit of fabric looked like it cost more than most people earned in a year.

She turned to look at Aizen, who had followed her into the room and was watching her reaction with an amused half-smile. She was awed against her will, and it made her voice sharp. "This doesn't seem like you, Aizen-sama. In Hueco Mundo you seemed to go for the utilitarian style, all white and blocky."

Aizen's smile widened. "That was in the public spaces, Orihime." He sighed as he lowered himself onto a couch upholstered with white silk shot through with threads of what looked like gold. "In private, I prefer comfort."

He glanced up at Ulquiorra, who had already entered the suite's kitchen and emerged with a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Ah, thank you very much, Ulquiorra." He picked up a glass and raised it to Orihime in a toast, leaning back on the couch and stretching one arm out over the back. He took a sip of the wine and closed his eyes with satisfaction. "Ahhh," he murmured, "that is heavenly." He opened his eyes again and regarded Orihime. "After my recent experience, I find myself appreciating these small sensory pleasures to a great extent."

She felt a twinge in her conscience but again resolved to harden her heart.

"May I offer you some of this superb wine, Orihime?" he asked. She shook her head with a scowl and he smirked. "Pity. If only you would relax your stance regarding rigid adherence to every rule, your life would be much more pleasant." He gazed at her with his dark eyes over the rim of the wine glass as he took another sip.

"It's not just the rules," Orihime ground out, "but what you did to me after I drank alcohol." She glared at him and he raised an amused eyebrow. Angrily, she took a step backwards. "I've had enough of your games and lies. I'm leaving and you can't stop me." She took another step toward the door. "I'm going home to my own apartment."

He looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Orihime." His voice was soft and full of what appeared to be sorrow. "Of course, it is completely your choice since I have no power to stop you, but please do not leave. It is not in your best interests to go outside, unprotected. The Karakura police as well as independent organizations have your name and description. I could not guarantee your safety out on the streets."

She glared at him.

"And besides…" His voice dropped lower. "I would like you to stay with me." His eyes were on her with unusual gentleness.

"Why?" Her voice was more shrill than she intended as she put her hands on her hips and backed away from him. "You don't care about me; you just want to use me and my powers."

There was a pause as he continued to gaze at her with soulful eyes. She tried to hold onto her anger but felt it threaten to slip away from her; if he used that soft voice on her again, could she resist him? As she felt the familiar weakness, she berated herself. How could she have turned into someone so pathetic, so useless, pining for a man who cared nothing for her or anyone? Her chest heaved and she ached inside. How much she longed for him to deny her words, to prove to her that he cared…She shook her head against the angry tears. She was so foolish. So unbelievably gullible.

"Ah, Orihime. You still have not forgiven me." He heaved a large sigh and looked away, down at the floor. "I suppose I do not deserve to be forgiven." Then he closed his eyes from a moment, took another sip of wine, firmed his lips, and set the glass down on a teak end table. "Orihime. Please look at me." Her eyes were drawn unwillingly to his and again she felt all her resolve trembling.

Slowly, gracefully, he stood up and approached her, his eyes holding hers. "My dear Orihime. I hope you realize how difficult this is for me." As he moved nearer, she felt herself torn apart as though by gravitational waves; like the sun, when he came too close the tidal pull was too intense… she would shatter into a million pieces…

He reached her, took her hands in his; she stared up at him, eyes wide. This close, his body warmth, his scent, his _presence_… were almost overwhelming. She was paralyzed, stricken, completely overtaken. She could do nothing but look into his eyes, could not think, could not maintain her anger. "As I said, during my enforced time of reflection, I found my thoughts circling back to one idea, and one person." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I had always prided myself on calmness, on the absence of disruptive and foolish emotion… and yet, in that prison, I found myself suffused with an emotion I thought I was unable to feel."

He drew closer and she shivered as his hands slid up her arms to encircle her. She could feel his powerful arm muscles enfolding her as he bent close. His words, so soft and so treacherous, penetrated her mind and filled her heart to overflowing. "Orihime… I found that I could not stop thinking of you. I could not stop wishing I had been kinder to you. I could not stop wanting to see you again. I could not stop…" His voice broke, and her heart seemed to follow it. "I could not stop caring for you and wishing I could have done something to protect our child." Her breath caught as his arms tightened.

He took a deep breath, his eyes blazing, and she could not look away. "I know that you should by all rights refuse to believe whatever I say, but I have no choice but to make the attempt. You have caught me, Orihime; you have ensnared the one man no one could defeat… When the hougyoku abandoned me during the battle, it was because I had lost my single-minded focus on my goal, on unlimited power… and instead… I felt nothing but loneliness. Because… I had left you."

She looked at him, her thoughts in a whirl, unable to move or say anything. Her own feelings, a complicated mix of compassion, dread, thrill, and affection, were flaring, burning again, and she found herself tilting her head up, gazing at him with eyes full of emotion.

"Orihime… please… even though I don't deserve you, I am so lonely…" His voice faded away as her body pressed against him, her face turned up to his, lips parting, eyes closed. With a deep, unbelieving breath, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her, gently, and then she was pushing herself against him, the passion firing in her body once again, the overwhelming need and desire and tingling where all she wanted was to be his once more, his, body and soul; she wanted to cleave to him, she wanted to drown in him, and she was crying huge, silent tears, and he was holding her, kissing her tears away, running his hands all over her body, saying, "Orihime. Orihime, my love, don't cry. It will be all right now. Everything will be all right."

XxXxXxX

Orihime sat up in the tangle of expensive sheets in the huge and luxurious bed. It was still early, but Aizen had already awakened and gone into the other room, leaving her alone with her confusing feelings.

She sighed. She had given into him again, even though she knew he was almost certainly lying to her. It was because… because there was a chance, even a small one, that he was telling the truth, and she could not bear to see him truly as devastated as he had appeared to her the day before. Her compassionate heart could not hold back when someone asked directly for her help.

She got out of bed and went into the vast and elaborate bathroom, a room bigger than her entire apartment across town. As she flicked on the light, she sighed again. She would not let herself believe this time that he truly cared for her. He was evil and that would not change. Why he had chosen her for his use out of all the others he had encountered in his long life no longer mattered. She had no choice but to stay with him, after all; as he himself had pointed out, if she left him now she would likely be gunned down on the street or arrested by Karakura police, or even worse, she thought as she shuddered to herself, imprisoned by Soul Society.

He had effectively trapped her.

She could run and end up in jail or dead, or… she could give into her own shameful desires. Her face felt hot again as she thought of what had happened last night, how they had given each other pleasure repeatedly for many hours in the large and comfortable bed. She recalled again all the wonderful things he had said to her, the words of a devoted lover; and even more, of the intense sensations he had awakened in her.

Her cheeks flushed with renewed vigor as she realized desire was mounting in her again. The mere thought of his devilish smirk, his flashing eyes, his seductive voice… set off such intense electricity in her core that it made her almost glad that she was throwing away all her life, all her code of ethics, all her friends, simply to follow this one man… this amoral but utterly captivating man.

This man who was almost certainly lying to her.

She sighed as she splashed cold water on her face. She really had no choice after all. She was effectively his prisoner. With the thought, the part of her conscience that was berating her for doing anything other than attacking him gave a small sigh and expired.

She offered a small, secret smile to her reflection in the mirror as she felt a sudden sense of liberation. She might as well enjoy the moment; who knew what would happen tomorrow. With a rush, her core optimistic nature reasserted itself.

Yes. She would enjoy herself and all the illicit thrills that being on the lam with a gorgeous but deadly criminal could offer. Perhaps later she would escape. But for now… she might as well relish the experience of being by his side.

As she closed the door behind her, she told herself that it was purely a practical decision. It was a matter of convenience only. She did not dare to think, even in the darkest recesses of her mind, the word 'love.'

XxXxXxX

Ulquiorra entered the central room of the suite. Aizen-sama was dressed in a dark blue silk robe this morning, sitting in the breakfast nook, overlooking the large windows, sipping tea and gazing out at the view spread below him as the early morning sun flooded Karakura Town. The Espada scrutinized his master. He appeared inordinately pleased, his body relaxed.

"Sir." Ulquiorra's voice was neutral as always. "I would like to suggest that we move to another location today. We may have stayed here too long. I am quite certain that if we stay in one place that Soi Fon's forces will discover your location."

Aizen turned to regard him lazily. He gestured at the remains of the luxurious meal in front of him. "But Ulquiorra, you must realize that after so long without tasting anything, I prefer to remain in a venue where the food is of the highest quality. At least for the nonce." He smiled.

Ulquiorra stared at him. He wondered if the food was truly the reason Aizen did not want to move. Although there were several bedrooms in the spacious suite, he was well aware that Orihime had not once slept in the bedroom designated as 'hers.'

"Sir," he tried again. "May I remind you what you once told me, that survival depends upon behaving according to logic and not emotion." He waited, wondering if his master would become angry at his presumption in attempting to chastise him. Usually Aizen was calm and accepted such suggestions with serenity. But this, he suspected, was an entirely different situation.

Aizen turned to regard his loyal Espada, his brown eyes glittering as he tilted his head. "Indeed. And I do value your opinion, Ulquiorra. Nevertheless…" He sighed and turned his head away. His voice, when he spoke again, was low. "Perhaps my stay in that prison damaged me more than I anticipated."

The door to the master bedroom opened and Orihime emerged. Aizen's eyes immediately went to her. She was wearing a black silk bathrobe and Aizen's eyes moved appreciatively to her neckline where her pale skin showed against the fabric.

"Good morning, Orihime," he said in his deep and resonant voice. He treated her to a lazy smile as he studied her expression. "I hope you slept well?"

She gave him a bright smile in return. "Yes, thank you. And you?"

"Mmmm," he murmured, rising to pull out a chair for her at the breakfast table. "What there was of it."

Ulquiorra saw the flush that suffused her face at his words and averted his eyes. "Aizen-sama, is there anything more you need from the kitchen? Otherwise I will get back to work on that project you assigned me."

Aizen lifted amused eyes to his Espada. "Thank you, Ulquiorra, but there will be nothing more."

As the door closed behind the black-haired man, Aizen sat in his chair and patted his legs. "Come, Orihime," he murmured. "Sit in my lap."

She paused in the act of pouring herself some fresh-squeezed orange juice and her eyes went wide for a moment. Then she got up and settled herself in his lap. At once his hands were roaming her body and his lips were nuzzling her neck, and she squirmed and laughed. One of his hands slid up underneath her robe along her thigh and she gasped.

Soon she was wriggling on top of him and blushing and giggling at the naughtiness of it all. When they finally straightened their robes and sat down to finish their now-cooling meal, both pairs of eyes were alight with satiation and wickedness.

Orihime sighed with pleasure as she ate another buttered scone. She smiled up at Aizen who gave her a satisfied smirk over a freshly poured cup of tea.

"So," she inquired around her mouthful, "what are we going to do today? Do you have another hideout for us to move to?"

"I don't know," sighed Aizen, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. "Maybe we'll stay here for another day. It's not so comfortable being on the run."

She laughed. "I just saw this movie a couple of weeks ago about being on the run. _Bonnie and Clyde_. Have you heard of it?"

Aizen was smirking at her, but said nothing as she continued. "It's a movie about a couple of American bank robbers from the 1900s."

"Yes," Aizen murmured, his eyes lidded. "I know the story. She was quite the innocent until she fell in with him… but at the end, there were photos of her brandishing a submachine gun along with the rest of the gang." He leaned forward and nuzzled her. "Do you think that will happen to you?" he whispered. "Will you use your power in my service and become an accomplice to my crimes?"

His voice was low and seductive and Orihime could not help but shiver as another hard chill went through her.

"I—" she began, frowning, but then there was a rapping on the suite door.

She quickly straightened and Aizen returned to his seat.

Ulquiorra emerged from the kitchen and went to the door, his hand hovering near his weapon. Orihime could see he was prepared for anything. Ulquiorra's unwavering loyalty… seemed very touching to her this morning. No doubt, a man in Aizen's position would appreciate that kind of unswerving allegiance.

As she raised her reiatsu sensitivity to detect whoever was at the entrance to the suite, she realized Aizen could not see who was at the door, nor hear what they were saying. Without his powers, his perceptions were still blunted. Nevertheless, his face was serene as he took another sip of tea and waited for Ulquiorra to return.

The door closed quietly and the slender Espada turned back toward the room, a large white envelope in his hands. "Aizen-sama." The black-haired man handed him the heavy, elegant parchment. "This was delivered for you. I do not detect anything amiss in its reishi."

Aizen took the envelope, eyebrows raised, and slit it open, reading. His eyebrows climbed further.

"Well." He glanced at Ulquiorra. "You were right after all. They have found me." Ulquiorra tensed, but relaxed at a small hand gesture from his master. "But…" Aizen leaned back in his chair and a subtle smirk appeared on his face. "This missive is quite… interesting."

"What is it?" asked Orihime, sitting on the edge of her chair, wondering if she should be worried.

"It appears that captain-commander Yamamoto, of all people, is interested in setting up a meeting with us. He wishes to declare a cease-fire, he claims. He would like to send an agent to meet with us."

Orihime noted his choice of pronouns. "Are you going to meet with them?"

Aizen's eyes turned to Orihime, bemused. "Ah. Yama-jii's choice of emissary is… quite enlightening."

Orihime looked inquiring.

"He is sending Kuchiki Rukia." At Orihime's intake of breath, he glanced at her briefly and then gazed out the window. "This tells me a great deal about his plans," he murmured.

"Oh?" asked Orihime.

"Yes," continued Aizen. "If this were a rescue attempt, Yama-jii would have sent Kurosaki Ichigo." His calm eyes met Orihime's puzzled ones. "Ichigo is powerful enough to defeat me, as far as the captain-commander knows, and he would not quibble over your supposed loyalty.

"If it were a trap, and he intended to capture me, he would have sent one of Soi Fon's men. A lower-level shinigami, someone expendable," he said calmly. "And yet… he has chosen Kuchiki Rukia. A powerful shinigami in her own right," he murmured, "yet of negligible power against me if I were at full strength. Nevertheless, as a Kuchiki she has stature in Soul Society that surpasses most of the seated shinigami. Additionally, she is your friend. Thus Yama-jii is showing both of us respect, as well as confirming that he sees you as my ally rather than my prisoner. I have already threatened Rukia's life once already, yet spared her, so he is telegraphing intent to send a message that I will want to hear." He leaned back, his face thoughtful. "On the other hand, should I simply kill her, her powerful family will make it… impossible for me to ever reconcile with Soul Society."

Orihime listened to Aizen's comments with her mouth open. "You can't kill her!" she protested, outraged.

Aizen glanced at her. "Do not worry. I would be a fool to attack Yama-jii's emissary. He has made an intelligent choice. Especially, since he is implying there may be something in my best interest in the deal he is about to propose."

Orihime shook her head, angry that he had even mentioned killing Rukia. "What sort of deal do you think he has in mind?"

"It is unclear. Still… I think I will accept his proposal. This location is as good as any other to meet; there are one thousand rooms full of civilians in this hotel, and there are defenses woven into this suite so that it is impossible to attack me here without destroying the entire building."

Orihime's eyes widened. "You're not using human shields!" she cried, horrified.

"Don't worry. Those humans are not at risk, based on my estimation of Yama-jii's behavior."

She sprang to her feet, her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "That's not the point! You may say I'll end up being an accessory to your crimes, but not if they include the murder of innocents!"

His face flickered. "Didn't you understand when I said that no murders would be committed?"

"But there's a chance something could go wrong! You're threatening them!" she protested, her eyes burning with fury. "I don't care what you say. I'm not staying here one minute more if I'm cowering behind human shields!" Angrily, she spun and ran into the bedroom and began quickly throwing on clothing.

As she was furiously and jerkily shoving her arms and legs into her old clothes, Aizen walked softly to the door and leaned against the jamb. "Orihime." His voice was cajoling. "What if I promise you it is only an empty threat, that the devices in the hotel will not be activated?"

She stared at him, still enraged. "I'd need proof that they had been disabled."

He raised his eyebrows. "And once you saw such proof, would you be satisfied?"

Her chest heaved, and she looked at him with mistrustful eyes. There was a long pause. "Okay."

"You do realize that then I will be defenseless. There would be nothing stopping Soul Society from picking me up in my powerless state and returning me to that prison cell." He gave her a level look.

"I'll protect you," she declared. "Nothing can get past my shield."

His lips twitched. "A noble sentiment, my dear." He stared at her for a moment, his eyes turning blank. "What if your powers failed? You would allow me to be returned to prison?" His face was unreadable.

She spun to face him. "Of course I don't want you to go back to prison! But killing, or even threatening to kill innocents is _wrong_! I won't stand for it, no matter what." She faced him now, face stormy, refusing to back down.

He met her gaze calmly, raising an eyebrow. "Not that Soul Society is above sacrificing tens of thousands of lives to achieve their goals," he said dryly, "as we learned only last week when Mayuri killed 28,000 Rukongai peasants in the name of 'balance.'"

"No. You're lying," accused Orihime. "Soul Society would never have condoned such a thing."

Aizen gave her a dark smile. "As were my own prison conditions, Soul Society's recent massacre in Rukongai is a matter of public record," he responded. "Indeed, the life of a Rukongai peasant is worth almost nothing to the rulers of Soul Society," he continued, and Orihime stared at him. Did she just hear a tinge of bitterness in that urbane voice? "Very well. I agree to your terms. I will disable the self-destruct mechanisms in the hotel and allow you to watch as they are disengaged." There was now faint amusement in his voice. "I suppose I am growing careless in my old age," he murmured with a sidelong glance at her. "I wonder how you would feel if I were captured again?" She glared at him and refused to back down in the face of his ploy for her sympathy.

After a moment, though, he gave her a relaxed smile. "But, as I said before, I don't think Soul Society will risk taking action against me in this hotel. Not because they care about lives, but… in our case here, we are talking about humans… and their deaths might offend Kurosaki Ichigo. And I suspect that the captain-commander is being very careful not to offend Ichigo at the moment."

"What? Why?" asked Orihime.

Aizen merely glanced at her. "That will shortly become clear. What is interesting is that Yama-jii also appears not to want to offend _me _at the moment." His eyes became distant. "The captain-commander is _desperate_."

XxXxXxX

**A/N:** I originally planned a lemon for this chapter, but with FFnet's recent crackdown, since I am unsure of the exact dividing line between M and MA, I decided to keep everything on the safe side. :(


	21. Chapter 21

**The Challenge – Chap. 21**

**A/N: **To those of you who thought Aizen was OOC in the last chapter (and probably in this one) please remember that you are not seeing his POV, and that he is a marvelous actor. ;)

I would like to extend an invitation to any of you to join the Aizen x Orihime fanclub on Bleach Asylum: "The Gods of Bleach." We talk about this pairing and Bleach in general over there, and we always welcome new members who find this pairing intriguing.

(Originally posted 7/3/12.)

XxXxXxX

Aizen sat at the breakfast table, the opened missive from Yamamoto lying at his elbow. His chin rested on his knuckles as he gazed out over the view of Karakura Town, a contemplative expression on his face. Orihime had just left the table and gone to the bathroom. Ulquiorra emerged from the kitchen and began clearing the dishes, lifting them carefully from the elegant white linen tablecloth.

Aizen's eyes focused on his Espada and his lips curled slightly. "Ulquiorra," he said in an undertone, "you do know what to do when you show Orihime the protective devices, right?"

Green eyes met brown. "Yes, sir. I will allow her to believe they have been disengaged." The former Espada's face was expressionless.

A smile crossed Aizen's face and his eyes lidded with satisfaction.

"Of course I would not leave you unprotected that way, my lord."

Aizen leaned back in his chair, studying Ulquiorra with gratification. "Excellent. I'm pleased that I can count on you to have my best interests at heart." He paused and tilted his head. "I suppose I can also count on you to be careful in the words you speak to Orihime on the subject of my plans or other issues?" The question hung in the air as Aizen's eyes fixed on Ulquiorra.

"Of course, sir. Is there any particular impression you would like me to leave with her?"

Aizen waved a dismissive hand. "Your best judgment will suffice, as always."

Ulquiorra nodded and picked up another dish, balancing it on top of the ones he already held. As he turned to go, Aizen continued, "I have further orders for you, Ulquiorra. Contact Szayel and the others and inform them they are to execute plan 'Gamma Two.'"

"Gamma Two," repeated Ulquiorra. "At once, sir." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Aizen continued gazing out the window. After a moment, he picked up a brush and began rapidly inking a series of kanji on a sheet of parchment, the lines appearing in his elegant calligraphy as his hand moved effortlessly across the page.

By the time Orihime returned to the breakfast table, Aizen was handing Ulquiorra a crisp white envelope. "See that this is delivered to Yamamoto." In an aside to Orihime, he remarked, "We shall accept the envoy." His eyes rested on Orihime's wide grey ones. "You shall see your friend here tomorrow morning."

XxXxXxX

Rukia perched on the top of a streetlamp in downtown Karakura, ignoring the early morning rush hour traffic crawling below her. She looked up and down the height of the skyscraper that was Aizen's stronghold in the world of the living and frowned. Aizen had certainly established a secure and powerful base here in Karakura, one that had been unknown to Soul Society until he had been imprisoned and a number of his clandestine operations had come to light.

She supposed part of the reason soutaichou was sending her to negotiate with the former fifth division captain was her inability to be intimidated by wealth. For many years, she had been well-trained by a platoon of etiquette experts, tutors, and very proper maiden Kuchiki aunts on how to behave as the scion of a noble family ought to. It had taken decades, but eventually she knew she could pass as a proper Kuchiki—at least on the outside.

She well remembered how awestruck and tongue-tied she had been when first adopted into the Kuchiki family. Even though she had prided herself on her ability to survive anywhere and her refusal to let anyone intimidate her, it had been difficult for a Rukongai peasant, upon first encountering seemingly limitless wealth and power, to react with as much aplomb as she would have preferred. She remembered it all too well, those early months as a Kuchiki, attempting to thread her way through the subtle digs and freezing glances of all those relatives… and more often than not, failing.

She shook her head angrily. There was no time for reminiscences. She had a mission to complete, as well as her own agenda to accomplish.

It was expected that Aizen would use whatever psychological advantages he might have in order to intimidate and outmaneuver a negotiator from Soul Society. Her job was to stick to the program. Aizen's putative wealth meant nothing to the Kuchiki family, whose almost limitless wealth dwarfed all human accumulations. As such, she could be trusted to remain neutral in the face of any of Aizen's dominance games.

Soutaichou had been clear that she was not expected to outsmart that bastard Aizen. They would have sent Urahara if that had been necessary. No, she was merely there to convey Soul Society's terms in a way that would hopefully win Aizen's agreement.

Soutaichou had been quite specific in his instructions for her regarding the rather simple strategy tree she had to memorize. She was not expected to improvise. He had also been very clear that Inoue Orihime was definitely to be considered a traitor and was not to be trusted; it was assumed that she was unquestionably on Aizen's side, and whether she had been coerced into that position or had willingly taken it up, Rukia was not to allow her feelings of friendship to get in the way of her mission.

Rukia had nodded and acknowledged soutaichou's orders professionally. She was enough of a Kuchiki to appreciate the value of appearances.

But internally, it was a different story. Rukia was convinced that her friend was not a traitor. She knew all too well how someone like Aizen could manipulate someone with a pure heart such as Orihime, and she was quite certain that Orihime would never willingly ally herself with a criminal such as Aizen. Of course, soutaichou would never believe that… so, she had had to take matters into her own hands.

She and Ichigo had come up with a secret plan to rescue Orihime, and to do it in such a way as not to endanger soutaichou's goals.

She hoped.

She looked around her at the busy downtown streets of Karakura Town. As usual, she was in shinigami form in her lieutenant's uniform; none of the humans around her could see her.

The clock across the way began to strike the hour. It was time.

Rapidly, she levitated up into the sky, up, up, past ten, twenty, thirty stories to Aizen's penthouse suite. A quick kidou spell and she was perched on the windowsill, checking rapidly for security systems and guarding spells. All was as agreed, and the window opened before her.

Inside, facing the window, sitting on a brocaded white couch, sat Aizen, looking relaxed and superior. Beside him, her grey eyes wide, her expression unreadable, sat Orihime. They were both wearing the white robes of their Las Noches uniforms. Rukia's eyes were drawn to their clasped hands, Aizen's long fingers holding Orihime's loosely but with clear possessiveness. Rukia's lips twitched with annoyance. Aizen had set up a tableau for her, and the message was clear.

Aizen was flouting his independence from Soul Society, and placing Orihime clearly as his ally (or subordinate) rather than his prisoner. Aizen's reiatsu was tightly furled, giving nothing away; whether he still retained transcendent powers or was back to 'merely' twice the captain level of reiatsu, Rukia did not know. She shifted her eyes to her auburn-haired friend but did not allow warmth to show on her face; her friendship with Orihime was something else Aizen could use against her. Rukia could sense Orihime's fairies hovering around her, waiting. So Aizen had allowed her her powers, at least for this encounter.

Rukia's eyes lifted to see a slender, black-haired Espada standing in the background, his powerful reiatsu partially raised. She recognized him from her briefings as Ulquiorra Cifer, the Fourth Espada. One of Aizen's most loyal followers.

Were there any others around? She had known she would be going into danger. Aizen was far more powerful than she was and could likely kill her simply by raising his spiritual pressure. Soutaichou had briefed her that Aizen's powers had been sealed, not destroyed, and that he was likely to have broken the seal by now. Orihime's presence might or might not be a deterrent. If there were others of Aizen's army waiting, that would only make any potential conflict even more one-sided.

She swallowed and raised her chin. She was not afraid.

XxXxXxX

Orihime sensed her friend's arrival before Rukia made one of her trademark window appearances, and then the shinigami was standing in front of her, her face blank and hard. Orihime cringed inwardly as she saw the girl's violet eyes go immediately to the hand Aizen held clasped so casually in his own. Aizen had explained to her beforehand how Orihime was to cooperate with body language as well as with her words, and, even though part of her was ashamed at her weakness, she had acquiesced to all of his arrangements.

Inside, she sighed. Her secret hope had been that Rukia would understand what was going on and would not treat her as a traitor. But she could see in Rukia's eyes that her friend had not forgiven her, and her heart plummeted.

She was truly alone.

Aizen had risen, courteously, to greet Rukia, drawing Orihime along with him.

"Greetings, Kuchiki-fukutaichou," he said with immaculate politeness. "Thank you for coming."

"Good day, Aizen-san, Inoue-san," she returned formally as she bowed at precisely the correct angle.

Orihime flushed bright red and bobbed her head, feeling awkward. "Kuchiki-dono," she murmured.

"Would you like to join us for some tea?" Aizen inquired, gesturing to the antique silver tea set laid out on an intricately embossed silver tray on the teak coffee table.

Rukia hesitated, and then her training took over. "Uh, yes; thank you very much." Rukia settled herself in the armchair Aizen indicated. She locked eyes with the traitor captain, her mouth a hard line. Under her scrutiny, Aizen's lips quirked into a subtle smile, as though amused by her sternness.

"It has been a while since we met as other than enemies, my dear Rukia," he murmured as he poured tea into a delicate cup and handed it to her.

Rukia's eyes narrowed. Diplomacy be damned. "Cut the crap, Aizen! The last time we met," she spat through tight lips, "you ordered me killed! I'm only alive because Nii-sama was willing to sacrifice his life for me."

Aizen leaned back, his face placid despite her outburst. "And indeed," he pointed out, "that action I forced him into led to a significant amelioration in the relationship between the two of you." He took a sip of his tea and met her eyes calmly.

Rukia's chest heaved. Damn him! Less than thirty seconds into the negotiation and he already had her on the defensive. Calm. She had to be calm. She gritted her teeth. "Don't you dare say that you planned all that, you bastard," she hissed.

Aizen raised an eyebrow. "Really… for a negotiator to call her opposite number a bastard before even beginning the discussion?" He shook his head slowly. "Not what I would have expected of a Kuchiki."

Rukia clenched her teeth. Orihime was looking between the two of them in distress as Rukia fought to get her anger under control. Deep breaths. That was it. Deep breaths. She remembered all too well that she had been told that Aizen's specialty was provocation. And yet, she had fallen right into his trap.

"Aizen-san," Orihime interrupted suddenly, her voice thin and anxious, "it is understandable that Rukia would be upset that you tried to kill her."

The brown-haired shinigami half-turned to face her on the couch. "My dear Orihime," he responded smoothly, squeezing her hand gently. "You are of course right; it did appear that way." He looked back at Rukia. "Please understand that I never wished for you to die, and accept my apologies for making it appear that I was threatening your life." His voice was gentle and devoid of any mockery. A brilliant actor as always.

Rukia glared at him but bit her lip. Orihime's interruption to the conversation had given her a chance to get herself back under control. "Very well," she said stiffly. "Apology accepted. Now we should get back to the matter at hand." Her voice sounded harsh even in her ears, but Aizen acknowledged her apology with a gracious nod, and she had to stop herself from drawing her zanpakutou then and there at his false graciousness. The lying _bastard._ He had somehow managed to get the negotiations started off with her clearly at a disadvantage.

She gritted her teeth again. Well, that didn't matter. She needed to communicate soutaichou's offer to Aizen and get out of there with his answer. She took another deep breath. "Aizen." She'd be damned if she gave him the least bit of respect after all this. "I'm here with an offer from soutaichou that could be very much to your advantage."

"Indeed," murmured Aizen, still relaxed and amused at her discomfiture. "No doubt an advantage will also devolve to soutaichou as well?"

Rukia sat very straight. "Captain-Commander Yamamoto is offering you amnesty, Aizen—you and all your allies." She glanced at Orihime, still sitting wide-eyed and frozen at the brown-haired shinigami's side. She felt a sudden surge of anger. Why was Orihime sitting so docilely at the side of this madman? She should be fighting back with all her strength! Then she swallowed her rage. She didn't know what Aizen had done to the girl.

The man placed his cup very gently back on the delicate saucer. His deep brown eyes met Rukia's. "And what price will soutaichou extract for this forgiveness?" His voice was soft and neutral, but surely he was burning inside with curiosity.

Rukia narrowed her eyes and decided to draw out the moment. Let the bastard wait for his answer. At the moment, she felt it might even be better for Soul Society to go down in flames than to sit here one moment more with this traitor and criminal. Her hand twitched at the hilt of Sode no Shirayuki.

Aizen merely waited, showing no sign of impatience, his eyes on hers, polite and inquiring. Beside him, Orihime stirred restlessly.

Finally Rukia said, "Soutaichou proposes an alliance against the Vandenreich. They have attacked your stronghold as well. We have intelligence about the Vandenreich incursion into Hueco Mundo that you might find useful."

Aizen's eyes lit with interest. "Ah, so that is it." He smiled slyly. "My spies have told me that Seireitei is in flames and that hundreds of shinigami have died under the Sternritter attack." He ignored Orihime's shocked intake of breath.

Rukia shot a sidelong glance at the auburn-haired girl, who looked devastated. So Aizen had been keeping her in the dark as to recent events in Soul Society.

"Yes, if you agree to defend Soul Society, you would receive full amnesty," she said.

Aizen said in a pleasant, neutral tone, "Is it not too late to defend Soul Society? Based on my information, as of this morning, Seireitei is in ruins."

Rukia glared at him. "Seireitei is not merely its buildings. As long as soutaichou is alive and the Gotei 13 exists, Soul Society is alive. The captains have fallen back to a more easily defensible location, their military headquarters. We continue to operate from that location."

Aizen's eyes narrowed. "Very well. I am fully aware of the situation. Nevertheless, given the desperation of the Gotei 13 at this point, what am I to be offered for my assistance?"

Rukia repeated, "You and your allies would receive full amnesty."

"Is that it? Amnesty from a government that barely exists?" He gave her a cold smile. "It seems like poor recompense for my efforts."

"Soul Society has survived attacks like this before. It has stood for a thousand years and will stand for another thousand. We are not _desperate_," Rukia began, but Aizen's face had turned stony and he interrupted.

"Desperate enough that Yama-jii is willing to come crawling to a traitor." The last word dripped scorn, although the man's expression remained impassive. Rukia tried to gather her words. She could not appeal to this man's patriotism, nor ask him for help with preserving the balance of souls and thus the world. All that he would listen to would be his own self-interest.

"All allegations of treason would be expunged from your record—"

His voice was cold. "After sentencing me to prison for twenty thousand years under inhumane conditions, Yama-jii now expects me to come running back to the fold when he snaps his fingers? Do you know that I was kept in Muken under sensory deprivation for _a year and a half_?"

Rukia's blood ran cold. She had not known of the exact conditions of his sentence, but she was aware of this treatment that was given to those criminals deemed most dangerous to Soul Society and the balance of the worlds. She swallowed. She had seen the results of the treatment on other prisoners.

"I—" she began, hesitantly.

Aizen's eyes glinted, hard as diamonds. Rukia felt impaled upon their glare. "And all he has to offer me is _amnesty_?" His low, once-melodic voice was harsh and bitter. "I think not, Rukia Kuchiki."

Abruptly, he stood up. "If that is all you have to say, Kuchiki-fukutaichou, then my hospitality is at an end." He gathered Orihime's hand into his. "Come, Orihime. We'll let Soul Society's—emissary return unhindered."

Rukia gaped. That was it? He was flat-out refusing their offer? She cursed herself. It had gone too fast. She had really botched everything. That wasn't how the negotiation was supposed to go! Plus, it gave her no time to communicate with Orihime and try to rescue her…

"Wait!" she called to his retreating back. "I can offer more…" she said.

Aizen spun to face her, his eyes still furious. "Do not waste my time any further, Kuchiki-fukutaichou," he said coldly. "There is only one thing that soutaichou could offer me that would make me possibly even consider your pathetic attempt at a deal." His eyes narrowed. "He knows what it is. Is it on the table? Tell me his very best offer quickly, or get out now. I will not waste my time with petty back-and-forth."

Rukia bit her lip. She remembered what had been told her at the very end of the briefing.

"_If Aizen will not agree to join us after you have offered him everything else… there is one last bargaining point we have." The Captain-Commander's face, body, and even his moustache seemed to sag. "But you must try everything else first!"_

"I—" she faltered, panicked. It was too soon to make their final offer. "I don't know. I'll have to ask…" Her voice trailed off as Aizen's eyes bored into hers.

He knew she was lying.

Glaring at her, he turned away once more. "Go!" he called over his shoulder. "Go and do not disturb us anymore. In thirty seconds I will consider our truce ended."

Anguished, Rukia grasped the hilt of her sword. What should she do? "Wait!" she called again. When he turned, a storm cloud darkening his face, she said with a hint of belligerence in her voice, "Just let me say goodbye to my friend."

Orihime stepped forward, looking anxious. Aizen gave her one dark glance and then nodded curtly. "Very well," he said, turning away. "But make it quick."

Rukia locked eyes with Orihime, and then ran forward to hug her friend. "Orihime," she whispered as she drew back and clasped the redhead's hands in hers. She saw the girl's eyes widen as she slipped the tiny folded piece of paper into her palm, but she did not give away her surprise. Instead she flung her arms around Rukia and drew the petite shinigami to her bosom. They hugged tightly for a moment as Aizen watched.

Then slowly, Rukia drew away, trying to convey everything she wanted to say to Orihime in her eyes. She saw that the girl's eyes were bright with tears, and she gave the teenager a reassuring smile, even as her own mind was whirling. What could she do now?

"Ten seconds," Aizen said without expression.

With a bound of shunpo, Rukia stood on the windowsill once more. She hesitated. Should she just leave and report the failure of her negotiation to soutaichou? Or should she keep trying to bargain, try to get Aizen talking again?

And… would Orihime be able to read the note and act on its contents?


	22. Chapter 22

**The Challenge – Chap. 22**

(Originally posted 7/14/12.)

XxXxXxX

"Wait!" said Rukia for the third time. She was standing on the window sill of Aizen's penthouse hotel suite, frozen with indecision and agony, as he walked away from her, one arm draped possessively over Orihime's shoulders.

Aizen turned to look at her, his face completely expressionless. "You have ten seconds," he remarked tonelessly. "Then I will no longer guarantee your safety."

_Byakuya had come to her rooms as she was preparing for her departure as Soul Society's emissary. He watched as she tidied her uniform and made certain her zanpakutou's sheath was neatly aligned._

"_Rukia, do not worry."_

_She looked up at him. "Nii-sama, what if I fail at this negotiation?"_

"_Are you worried about him trying to kill you again?"_

_She shook her head angrily. "No. If he violates the truce that way, we wouldn't want him on our side anyway. Besides, I don't fear death any more." She took a deep breath. "No, it's what soutaichou said in the meeting. What if Aizen learns we are desperate and uses that against us?"_

_Byakuya gazed at her steadily. "I'm certain he already knows we are desperate."_

"_Then won't he take advantage of us?"_

"_You should follow soutaichou's instructions. We all know what Aizen is capable of. He will no doubt attempt to provoke and twist you to get you to do what he wants. Do not play his games; he is a master at them."_

"_But… but does that mean there is no hope?"_

"_There is always hope."_

Aizen's deep brown eyes focused on her. How could such a monster be housed in such a beautiful package? He waited for her to speak with his impeccable mask of courtesy.

There was no choice. Rukia took a deep breath, trying to swallow her emotions and her pure hatred of the man who had lied and manipulated them all. "All right. The answer is yes."

Aizen raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" he drawled.

Scowling, Rukia bit out, "I will tell you his final offer: If you agree to ally with us, soutaichou will give you… the King's Key."

Orihime made a sharp intake of breath. Aizen paused, his face unreadable, his eyes searching Rukia's face.

_Byakuya went on, "If the balance fails, the world will end. Soutaichou would give anything to stop that. Even… allowing a criminal access to the spirit realm._

"_For without the balance, even the spirit king will topple. And… it is true the current king is weak. Perhaps… having a stronger king will not be all bad."_

_Rukia stared at her brother, incredulous. "You can't be serious, Nii-sama. Aizen is evil! He has murdered so many people, and he betrayed us all, pretending to be a good, kind captain, all the while secretly building a base in Hueco Mundo and allying with hollows! He—"_

_Byakuya interrupted her. "If we cannot stop the Vandenreich, there will be nothing left." _

Aizen's face continued to express nothing other than placid amusement as he tilted his head in consideration, his arm still draped loosely around Orihime's shoulders. "Very well. I accept those terms. Deliver it into my hands by noon, Karakura time, and I will join your efforts this afternoon."

Rukia thought for a moment. It was shortly after 8 a.m. Did she have enough time to return to soutaichou with the news, have him retrieve the Key from its secret location, and then bring it to Aizen? And… would there be enough time for Orihime to read the note and arrange a way to comply with their escape plans?

She looked back at Aizen, scowling at the hidden gleam of triumph in his eyes. For the sake of the three worlds, she thought. "Done," she said.

XxXxXxX

The silence stretched out after Rukia's departure. Aizen's gaze was distant, far beyond the two in the room beside him. Orihime stared at him. He walked to the table, picked up his cup of tea, and paced to the window, reflective. He sipped as he gazed out at the world lying far below the window. Orihime wondered what he was thinking. Was it that the world would soon be his plaything? Her heart sank. Was this what they all had to look forward to, the entire world at Aizen's dubious mercy?

He drained the cup and set it back on the table. Turning to Orihime, he smiled. "How would you like to become a goddess, Orihime?" he asked softly. "Imagine. Power such as you never dreamed of." His voice dropped to a whisper. "No one could ever hurt you again."

Orihime swallowed. "I—I don't want to be a goddess," she stammered. "I just want to be happy."

Aizen strode to her and lifted her chin gently. "And you will be happy. How much easier your life would be, if the universe were to shape itself to your will, rather than living your life being controlled by outside forces? How much more pleasant…" He stroked the skin of her throat. As she trembled under his touch, he stepped back, withdrawing his hands from her. "You will see," he said, almost dismissing her as he turned to Ulquiorra. "Now. There is much to do."

Ulquiorra nodded. "Yes, sir… and," he added, "congratulations. That was a masterful negotiation."

Aizen inclined his head. "Thank you, Ulquiorra."

Realization burst over Orihime. "You… you _played_ her! You knew what the offer was and you tricked her!"

Aizen turned to her, his gaze dark and placid. "I was negotiating for control of the universe, Orihime. Of course I will use whatever advantages I can obtain."

As outrage boiled up in Orihime's eyes, Aizen held up a hand. "But before you accuse me of further crimes and manipulations, you must understand the logic behind the situation. Yama-jii was aware that I knew her weaknesses. He did not send Urahara." He paused as she struggled to make sense out of his words. "He _wanted_ the negotiations to go this way, Orihime."

She shook her head. "I don't understand. He wanted to give you the King's Key?"

"Yes," Aizen mused, his gaze focusing on her bewildered expression. "Do you fully understand what is happening in Soul Society right now? They are being besieged by an ancient enemy that is reckless, driven mad by hatred. The Vandenreich are irrational. They are tipping the balance of souls across the three worlds. If that continues, eventually all the worlds will be destroyed."

Orihime's eyes went wide. "Why… why are they doing that?"

"They are consumed by hatred and the desire for vengeance. Soul Society is reaping what they sowed. Do you know who the Vandenreich are?"

Orihime shook her head and he continued, "They are the descendants of the Quincy race, the same as your friend Ishida Uryuu."

She sucked in her breath. "Ishida?"

"Yes. Soul Society, led by Kurotsuchi Mayuri, attempted genocide upon them two hundred years ago."

"What?" She remembered her first time in Seireitei and Ishida's battle with Mayuri. Her face darkened. "That man is evil!" she burst out.

Aizen raised an ironic brow and continued. "The Quincy have never forgotten. Indeed, as a race, they have become obsessed with revenge. For two hundred years they have been preparing in secret, allowing it to be believed they had become extinct. They have become a strict military society, ruled by their desire for vengeance. Their primary base is not far from Hueco Mundo. Although Yamamoto remained in ignorance of their threat until recently, I have been aware of them for some time, and made certain to make preparations to defend against them."

He picked up a silver butter knife from the table and turned it in his fingers. "As a result, I have intelligence on their primary weaponry and strategy. They are deliberately unbalancing the worlds by massacring Hollows."

She glared at him. "Well, why didn't you give that information to Soul Society? Or do you prefer if the world is destroyed?"

He merely raised both his eyebrows. "Orihime," he pointed out softly, "Soul Society had placed me in prison under a sensory seal. It was not possible for me to communicate with them."

"Oh." She subsided, still frowning.

"Let me continue." A fleeting expression she did not recognize crossed his face. "In return, Mayuri murdered 28,000 denizens of Rukongai to balance the worlds… with Yamamoto's approval."

Watching the horror on Orihime's face, he added, "Yamamoto made yet another error in judgment." Distaste twisted a corner of his mouth. "He is growing senile," he murmured, shaking his head. "He simply did not realize how powerful they had become. They have developed the ability to steal bankai."

He waited to see how she would react to his statement. "Yes. You understand. They can defeat the strongest captains of Seireitei."

"But—" she whispered, her hand to her mouth. Her voice trailed away.

He walked to the window and stood gazing out at the city below. "With this development, everything changes. The Sternritter will inevitably defeat the Gotei 13. When that happens, nothing can stop the destruction of the worlds…"

"What?" gasped Orihime.

He lifted a shoulder, let it fall. "Nothing, that is, except a king with sufficient power to balance the universe." He turned to face Orihime. "Yamamoto claimed that in a thousand years, no shinigami had been born with sufficient power to match his." He met her eyes. "He lied. There was one with power equal to the Captain-Commander."

Her eyes were round. "One?" she whispered.

Some deep emotion flared in his eyes. "Yes," he murmured, "it was I. And when I fused with the Hougyoku, I gained sufficient power to defeat not only Yamamoto, but also the current spirit king. The king is weak and ineffective. He has failed to take action many times. The king should have sent his forces to attack me when I threatened Soul Society. Instead, he cowered, safe in his domain." His voice dripped scorn. "Now, the Sternritter are demolishing Seireitei, and again the king does nothing. Yama-jii knows that the only way to stop them is to have a strong king on the spirit throne, one who can then stabilize the balance of the worlds by himself."

He gazed at Orihime. "Yama-jii knows that I have become the only hope for all the worlds. He wanted to find a way to give me the King's Key without losing face. It is his only chance. That is why he chose a negotiator that he knew I could easily outmaneuver in a short amount of time. My instruments tell me the soul imbalance is becoming severe. We only have a few days at most before the destruction of the worlds."

Orihime's heart pounded and she could not stop an indrawn breath. "A few days…?" she squeaked. "But…"

"Do not worry, Orihime." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Once I have the King's Key, it is a short step for me to the spirit dimension. Once my power is unbound, it will be possible for me to fight the god that currently sits on the spirit throne."

Ulquiorra, who had been listening carefully all this time, no expression visible on his face, stirred at this. "But are you strong enough to defeat him, sir?"

"Well." Aizen replied. "That depends on Orihime, now, does it not?" He looked back at Orihime. "So. Do you understand the situation, my dear?"

Her eyes were locked on his as she stood, paralyzed by shock. She was able to manage a tiny nod.

"Good. Then—we come to the most important of questions, the one that concerns you."

Orihime's eyes were wide. "Me?" she whispered, although she already knew what he would say.

"Yes. You see," he explained, "I need your help. I need you to unmake the tracer Soi Fon put in my soul, and unmake the binding on the Hougyoku and on my powers. I cannot do either of these things, and it would take too much time for Soul Society to do it, and it would require multiple captains working together. That is the nature of such bindings."

"But then… why didn't they know you were still bound?"

Aizen smiled with a hint of darkness. "There are many times when it is advantageous to have your opponent believe you are far more powerful than you are. It is a strategy I have exploited numerous times."

Orihime stared at him, her heart pounding, wondering what kind of strategy he was using with her.

"But I am telling you the truth, since I hope you are not my opponent. You are the only one who can unbind me. But you must do it carefully so as not to damage the Hougyoku itself."

Orihime gulped. As she stared at his calm expression, the ramifications of his request became clear to her. He would not be asking her to perform this delicate operation if he had any other way to remove the seal on his powers. After all, she had once sworn to unmake the Hougyoku with her powers.

Did that mean… that she could either return him his power, or destroy it? Did she really have that ability? And even if she did— Fear bloomed in her. How could he allow her such a massive advantage over him, unless he had some failsafe, some means to ensure her cooperation? But what could it be? Would he threaten her overtly?

Reading her panic in her eyes, he took her hands gently in his. "Orihime," he said softly, "it is now up to you. You have persistently refused to believe me when I have told you that you have the powers of a god. Soul Society has overlooked you, and even your friends in the human world have dismissed you as powerless." He drew closer to her, fixing her with his eyes, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I alone have valued your power, Orihime. And now… that power will be, as I have always known, crucial in saving the three worlds from destruction. Will you use that power for me… and for all the world?"

Into her mind flashed the nightmare memory of when he had first captured her, when he had told her he needed her power. She looked up at him, gripped by the memory, drowning in the hypnotic power of his brown eyes, and felt weak in the knees.

"If you damage the Hougyoku or detach it from my soul, then I will no longer be strong enough to face the spirit king or to balance the worlds, and we will all go down to destruction," Aizen said, his eyes on hers. "You are afraid I will threaten you. I will not. As I said earlier, I have no choice but to trust you. You have the power to save or destroy everything. It is up to you." His eyes lingered on hers, which were now wide and fearful.

"… To me?" she whispered. "But I'm just…" She stopped. "I'm nobody."

He reached out a hand, stroked her cheek gently. "Once again you undervalue yourself." He shook his head. "Kurosaki Ichigo had no doubt of his worth when Soul Society turned to him as their savior," he murmured. "Why should you doubt your worth? You are no different; a being with unique powers who has believed herself to be an ordinary human all her life."

"But Kurosaki-kun…" she whispered, "his father is a shinigami. He's more than just a human."

"Indeed," Aizen nodded. "But what do you know of your own parentage?"

Orihime flushed. "My parents… were monsters," she said, turning away and looking down. "My father was a drunk and my mother a whore." She stared, unseeing, at the elegant pattern of the parquet floor. "I am nobody."

"No." Aizen moved to her, took hold of her face very gently and turned it to face him. "Look at me and listen when I tell you: you have not been told the truth about your birth parents."

Orihime's eyes widened in shock as multiple emotions swept her. "What? No, that can't be true!" she cried. "Sora would have told me!"

"Sora," murmured Aizen, "wanted to protect you. So he intended to keep the secret until you were old enough to understand."

She pushed herself backward, shaking her head to free herself from Aizen's grasp. "No," she cried. "No! You're lying… just like you always lie."

Aizen drew nearer to her, fixing her with his eyes, as she took a step backwards, and then another, until she realized she was against the wall and could retreat no further. He moved forward, and she felt she was drowning in his huge, liquid-center brown eyes. "Am I indeed lying now…?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "Why should I believe you?" she insisted. "After all the times you have lied to me…"

He bent his head and his mouth brushed her ear. His unique scent was all around her as his warm breath stirred the hair above her neck. She… she could not concentrate when he was so near to her. She placed her hands flat on his chest to push him away. But that was a mistake as well. She could feel his warmth under her palms, his heart beating slowly and steadily, the toned muscles of his chest gently flexing under her fingers. He slipped one arm around her. "Orihime," he said and his deep voice thrummed against her skin. "Part of you knows I am telling the truth this time. That you hold the fate of the universe in your hands. No one else in the entire world, in the three worlds, but you has the power to reject reality. You have known it for a long time; you have merely been afraid to admit it."

He paused and studied her downturned face. She was silent, her thoughts whirling. Were her powers indeed that great? And what would be the outcome of helping him? How many times had he lied to her, tricked her? He was always so convincing. His words were so compelling. Part of her was crying out for her to believe him, that it was important, that if she did not obey him this time, the consequences could be momentous. Her heart—and her body—were crying out to her to take him in her arms, to accept his words. She felt like a wall of sand standing against the tide.

"I know you do not trust me. But… I do trust you. Out of all the souls in the universe, I have chosen to trust you." She stared at him in anguish. He was lying again. He must surely be lying.

"So… are you willing to undertake this task?"

Orihime swallowed. If he was telling the truth, it was up to her to save the universe. But… if he was lying, she could be bringing a great evil to power over the world. Her mind spun. She needed more time to analyze the situation… to figure out what was best to do… but how could she think clearly when he was standing so close to her, right in front of her?

How could she deny him when he, who did not trust, said he trusted her? Indeed, she realized, he had been trusting her for some time. He had no powers, yet he had returned hers. He had disengaged the protective systems on the building at her request, trusting her to protect him.

She could not betray his trust, could she? She felt her resolve wavering once again.

He reached out a hand to delicately stroke her face, his thumb brushing over her lips, and at his touch, she felt a rush of desire once again. She had no way of knowing whether he was telling the truth; but she was weak, she realized, weak with desire for him, and… dare she even think it?… love for him. He certainly did not deserve her love, or her trust… but she realized, even as she stood there, with the most momentous decision of her life waiting in her hands, that she had fallen in love with this man.

She had fallen utterly and completely in love with someone she did not trust. Thick tears slipped down her face unnoticed. She had fallen in love with a selfish, evil, power-hungry bastard.

How could it have happened?

She loved him with a passion she had not dared to admit, even to herself. The realization struck her with a tidal wave of emotion so powerful that it shook her body physically. It was completely irrational, she knew. She knew that Kurosaki Ichigo, whom she had loved all her life, was far more deserving of her love and devotion. She knew that this man would take her love and use it purely for his own desires and ambitions, and would discard her when she was no longer of use to him; she would be nothing but a tool to him, a casual dalliance on his way to greater things; he would manipulate her cruelly; he would torment her and take pleasure in her pain. He had no morals, no redeeming values. Her life would be worth nothing in his hands.

And yet… when she looked deep within herself for her decision, the answer was simple. She loved him. She had once held his child within her body… and she still grieved for the loss. She wanted nothing more than to be with him, to give herself to him in the deepest possible way, regardless of whether her love was reciprocated. It was a terrible thing, this emotion.

She had no choice. Ever since the day he had taken her she had been lost. She had sworn that she was his, body and soul, back when she was his prisoner in Hueco Mundo. She had known even then that there was no reason, no hope, no good to come out of belonging to him.

It was a compulsion. She had dived into his arms, into the vastness of his reiatsu, and could not surface. He had a power over her that went beyond rationality, beyond everything she knew. He was a maelstrom that had sucked her in to his power and she could not escape.

The worst was that deep inside, she knew that she did not want to escape.

Already she knew she would do exactly what he wanted as she had done so many times before. She realized her head was bobbing up and down in a jerky nod.

As he smiled at her, she turned her head into his palm and kissed his fingers.

She could not help herself and he knew it. She was his, now and forever. Ever since she had sworn that oath of allegiance to him, her subconscious had known. She belonged to him utterly. She might be terrified of what he was going to ask her to do, but at last, she fully understood that she would follow him, whatever he asked of her.

He drew her close to him and enfolded her in his arms. His lips brushed the top of her head. "Do not cry, Orihime." She hadn't realized she was crying, but now she felt the wetness coursing down her cheeks. "Everything will be all right."

XxXxXxX

As Orihime sat in the bathroom, her fingers reached into her pocket. On the tiny scrap of paper in Rukia's messy scrawl, adorned with doodles of Chappy rabbit heads, she read: "Rescue planned for you. Show yourself at the window and place one hand on your head if you agree. In one hour, Ichigo will come to your hotel room disguised as a waiter. He'll have a dining cart with a hidden compartment for you to climb into. We know you're not a traitor. Love, Rukia."

Her eyes blurred with tears. Her friends still believed in her. Her heart flooded with warmth and affection. She missed them so much. They felt so far away… but they still believed in her.

Even though they were wrong.

How could she join them now? She shook her head. She _was_ a traitor. Regardless of how he had coerced her initially, eventually he had won her to his side. She had agreed to follow him.

Even though she knew it was wrong.

Slowly, she crumpled up the tiny scrap of paper and flushed it down the toilet.

XxXxXxX

Aizen smiled as he lounged on the couch before her, stretched out full-length in his white robes. He had never appeared so beautiful. Even without his reiatsu, he blazed with power and confidence, his finely-sculpted features composed and serene, his muscular body graceful and replete with hidden power like a panther coiled to strike.

Even though she held his life in her hands, her power far greater than his at the moment, he held her heart in the palm of his hand. And he knew it. He knew he controlled her. She could see it in his eyes. He had always had utter confidence that she would do exactly as he wished.

She approached him slowly. This was it. What she was going to do now would change everything.

Slowly, she knelt in front of him and felt his smile widen at the gesture. He placed a hand on her head with a gentle touch and she shivered. "Orihime," he murmured.

She sat for a moment, gathering her concentration. Then she raised her hands and invoked her power. "Souten Kisshun. I reject." Her shield blossomed at her words and enveloped Aizen's torso. She closed her eyes, and with her inner vision reached out to the man in front of her.

She could sense the Hougyoku, bound, its power pulsing fitfully through its bindings. Intertwined with it was the limiter and tracer, to her inner eye appearing visually as black netting binding Aizen's own native reiatsu.

With this process, she knew, she was making Aizen a god.

She directed her power, aiming it at the tracer and the bindings on Aizen's soul, but skirting the Hougyoku itself. She could feel the jewel pulsing, threatening in its vast power, its native energy levels flaring and fluctuating as she gradually began to remove the binding.

It made him immortal, and gave him the powers of a god… but was it malignant in and of itself? Did Aizen truly control it, or did it influence him?

As she continued, focusing her energies, so close to Aizen's soul, she could sense the man before her more clearly than she ever had before. There was a darkness in his soul, a wound that pulled the energies awry. A void, an emptiness. It was an old wound, an old scar, centuries old. Around it she could see a glittering shell, a structure woven about the wound to preserve the integrity of the soul itself. She could feel that the structure was set hard; she wondered if she could ever heal it or change it. There was nothing she could do immediately in any event; she could already see that she would have to expend a huge amount of energy to defeat the bindings that were sealing his powers away; it would take all her efforts simply to comply with his wishes.

She began to work, teasing away the threads and the netting, gradually releasing, bit by bit, the soul underneath. She breathed slowly, deeply, in and out, as she delicately picked out the lines of power, carefully, so carefully so as not to damage the life force beneath nor the throbbing, overwhelming puissance of the Hougyoku, the darkly radiant jewel inextricably bound to Aizen's soul with long, black tendrils.

As she worked, so deep, so close to the man's center, she saw what she had never seen before. She saw that there was a glory in his soul, a hidden power so brilliant and spectacular that it took her breath away. As she slowly peeled away the bindings and released more of his power and inner nature, she could not help but gasp.

And she finally realized why she had been so fascinated by this man, why she could not help but kneel before him and obey him. His soul was coruscating and blinding, intense and complex and already bordering on the divine. She was only releasing what was already there. She was awed by the depths that lay before her as she unwrapped and unwound. It was as though she were gazing into a vast crystal cave, a hidden chamber pulsing with power and wound about with intricate and beautiful crystalline forms, an incredible and limitless labyrinth.

She had never touched a soul so complex and measureless.

Even her fairies seemed in awe as they swirled around her, helping direct her power, manifesting her rejection abilities to overcome the bindings. Gradually, she sensed the last of the limiters completely fade away.

She sat back on her heels as her shield died away, breathing heavily from exertion. Aizen reclined on the couch in front of her, his eyes blazing as he regarded her. He looked no different, and yet…

His reiatsu was swirling, flaring, expanding. She could feel its vast power washing over her and through her. But for some reason, it was not crushing and painful as she might have expected. Instead, as the roar of energy flashed towards her, it was… warming, somehow healing. She felt her soul take in the energy and expand, and felt her own depleted reiatsu begin to be replenished.

Aizen reached out to her and took her hand in his. Eyes wide, she stared back at him.

XxXxXxX

Aizen closed his eyes as Orihime's healing shield rose around him. He could feel the subtle and complex manipulations she was performing even though he could not tell exactly how her power worked. It was truly a marvelous ability. He had, as always, judged her correctly. It did not matter that he had been unable to completely shape her to his original desires; indeed, she was more interesting because the structure of her soul was so unyielding; she was diamond to his adamant.

She was now undoing the binding spells it had taken three captain-level shinigami several hours to wind around his powers and the Hougyoku, unerringly teasing apart all the interlocking cords and bindings. He had never seen anyone before who could undo a spell without having some knowledge of the caster.

He had chosen well when he kidnapped and seduced her. He had seen for some time that she had become hopelessly infatuated with him despite her apparent resistance. More. She loved him. A tingle of delight moved through him at the thought. For a moment his emotion surprised him, then he told himself he was pleased because it ensured that she would continue to use her astonishing powers in his behalf and for his interests.

Of course, now that he was about to become the god of the three worlds, his own powers to make and unmake reality would be augmented to the next level, and he would no longer need a power such as hers.

Already, with the unsealing of the Hougyoku and his return to transcendence, he could sense the shattering, intoxicating power he had felt once before rise again in his core. Again, he savored the overwhelming rush of pure power and might as it coursed through his body.

But this time, he reminded himself, he would not allow himself to become impaired by his intoxication. He would never again make the mistake he had made earlier.

As Orihime's shield began to fade, he began weaving a new set of spells to contain and enhance his power, as well as a new set of backup spells just in case anything went wrong. When the shinigamis brought him the King's Key at noon, he wanted to be prepared for every contingency in his ascendance to the spirit realm. He did not want to make any more mistakes.

Soul Society would ask him to crush those foolish Sternritter along the way. As it would be in his interest to do so, he would comply with that part of the agreement.

At last, all his plans would come to fruition. He would stand at the top of the world.

He kept his eyes closed so that Orihime would not talk to him and disturb him at this moment. There was too much he needed to do as he tore down and reconstructed his inner world to realign his powers with the new configuration. Defeating the spirit king would not be trivial, for that creature had the powers of a god merely because of his position on the spirit throne. Aizen, for all his carefully constructed abilities, did not have that level of power and would not until he claimed the throne and its concomitant powers for his own.

As Orihime's shield slowly faded, he opened his eyes and gazed at her, cradling her hands in his. He smiled. "Thank you, Orihime, for returning my powers."

He pushed himself upright and stood up. He could feel the colossal energies heaving within him, tremendous powers balanced by his will. He stood in human form in the concrete and glass spear placed on the Earth and felt the celestial dance of sun, stars, planets, satellites all around him, whirling in their ponderous, slow-motion parade through the universe… now with himself as the center, all the powers swirling and moving in and around him; he had become the new gravitational center of all the forces around him.

He had the power of a god. All he needed was the King's Key and the universe would be his toy.

He looked down at the human woman beside him, looking up at him with mingled terror and anticipation in her eyes. He smiled and took her hand in his, casually.

"Orihime," he murmured. "I have no further use for you."


	23. Chapter 23

**The Challenge – Chap. 23**

(Originally posted 7/28/12.)

XxXxXxX

"_I have no further use for you."_

Aizen stood tall before her, his eyes dark and deadly beautiful, his face carved in marble, his words echoing in the room. His eyes glittered as he held her at arms' length; he held her, boneless, in his powerful arms, his fingers curving around her forearms.

She gasped as he moved closer. How long did it take a shinigami to draw their sword and stab their opponent?

He gazed at her steadily, and then enfolded her in a warm embrace. So, she imagined, might Momo have felt when he had embraced her. She tensed, yet did not pull away. There was some compulsion that still drew her to this man, despite everything.

She closed her eyes and welcomed the darkness…

XxXxXxX

The light. The light!

It was brilliant, blinding. If he had not had supreme self-discipline he would have cried out.

There had been nothing but darkness for an eternity, and now, even if he squeezed his eyes shut, the brilliance seared his optic nerve. He had become… oversensitive, after not receiving any input for… who knew how many years? Decades?

There was also noise. And a feeling of warmth. It was… excruciating. Terrifying. Confusing.

But his face remained calm even as he felt the bindings being removed by gentle, warm hands. Hands with a sweet, almost familiar scent. He kept his eyes closed, remained impassive even as he felt the unbinding. When had he scented that before?

So he was being released? Or was this a new form of torture by Soul Society, to grant him his senses once again before taking them away for good? It could not have been twenty thousand years. By his internal reckoning, he doubted it had been more than a handful of years.

Again he detected the scent of those hands. He recognized it now with a twinge of inner amusement… and a stronger surge of… something else.

So one of his backup plans had been activated. He had not allowed himself to hope, but now he felt his calm confidence returning. Of course his designs would succeed. Had he not been successful for centuries? Being placed in Soul Society's prison had merely been a small setback.

Voices; he recognized the sounds as voices now. A male and a female. Both he recognized.

At last he opened his eyes and gazed upon his two rescuers. "Ulquiorra and Orihime, how lovely to see you." He was pleased that his voice sounded calm, with its usual timbre, no hint of distress or emotion, no roughness to his vocal cords. For so long, utter control of his facial expression and body language had been vital to his self-preservation. Those reflexes remained intact despite his ordeal.

"Aizen-sama," said Ulquiorra, inclining his head. Orihime continued to work at his bindings without ceasing. It had been the brilliance of her Souten Kesshun that he had seen earlier. Now her hands were touching him, gently, but her eyes were empty, lacking that passionate swirl of conflicting emotions that he had grown accustomed to seeing in her.

He slanted a newly unbound eyebrow at Ulquiorra in inquiry.

"It has been seventeen months since your sentencing, sir. I have carried out your orders involving Inoue Orihime. She is performing as expected."

Aizen nodded. "Thank you, Ulquiorra." His voice was, as always, impeccably polite, while his thoughts surged ahead. Seventeen months? That was not long at all. Ulquiorra was to be commended for his actions.

Ulquiorra's phrasing meant that he had successfully hypnotized her with the spell Aizen had bound into the Hougyoku before the final battle. It was one of several backup plans he had set in place before leaving to face Yamamoto and the others in what he had once assumed would be the final battle before his victory and ascension to the spirit realm.

It also meant that they still had an escape from Muken ahead of them, the Seireitei's maximum security prison. It was not over by any means. He began to run over his memories of the prison layout, instantly framing and discarding several potential escape routes. Likely Ulquiorra would have planned some type of distraction to ease their flight.

"Sir, there are some new developments in Soul Society you should be aware of," Ulquiorra went on in his expressionless voice. "The Vandenreich have captured Hueco Mundo and are now moving on Seireitei. Currently the city is in flames and there is a great deal of disruption in all of Soul Society. I have set detonation charges throughout the prison so that they may not immediately notice that you are our target."

"Ah," Aizen murmured. "I wondered whether the Vandenreich would move so soon." He had known of the Quincy group which had its stronghold not too far from Hueco Mundo, but aside from a few border skirmishes which had been promptly crushed, they had never dared mount a full-scale invasion of his stronghold. With his fall, of course, Las Noches had been left vulnerable to attacks from predators, and it seemed the Vandenreich were now swelled with their success. No matter. He would deal with them when it came time to do so. In the meantime, they were providing a very useful diversion for his escape plans.

He glanced up at Ulquiorra. "And you are correct that a mass breakout during a war will likely prove sufficiently distracting that we can make our escape. Good work." He tilted his head to one side, considering, his thoughts moving rapidly. He always excelled in devising strategies under pressure, and once again he could feel the adrenaline bubbling. He turned his head back to Ulquiorra.

"When we leave, I want you to disable all but one of the surveillance video cameras outside this cell."

The black-haired Espada never questioned his master's orders. "As you wish, sir."

Aizen nodded with satisfaction. It was valuable to have a servant who was both intelligent and highly loyal. And… his eyes traveled over Orihime's attractive form as he felt a hormonal surge in his long deprived loins… it would be pleasant to have a reunion with Orihime once more. It was most fortunate that it had been the backup plan involving her that had been activated. His eyes traced the curves of her body and returned to her blank and expressionless face. Regrettably, she was not really here, so he would restrain himself physically for now. Mostly.

"Orihime," he murmured. "I am grateful to you for your assistance with my escape."

She turned her depthless eyes to him. "You are welcome, Aizen-sama," she said tonelessly.

He injected warmth into his voice, a caressing tease. "Ah, but Orihime, are you not glad to see me again? Do you not wish to express your love?" He watched carefully as her eyes changed. The hypnotic spell would not cause her to do anything against her own nature, but if properly guided, it could once again elicit the emotions she had felt for him, and she would then act accordingly.

"Yes…" she muttered, confusion surfacing in her eyes. "Aizen-sama?"

He stood, free at last of the horrible black bindings that had kept him confined for so long. Stretching unhurriedly, he made sure that his limbs would once more obey him. Then he swept Orihime into his arms. He could feel her heart pounding against his, could smell her unique scent rising from the top of her head as he buried his nose in her hair. His hormones spiked and it was all he could do to keep himself calm and dispassionate. The familiar feelings of lust were also accompanied by a rush of an unusual emotion, an oddly overwhelming feeling of… what? He shook his head. Likely it was a result of his long sensory deprivation. In any event, he had no time for emotions now. There was an escape to be planned.

He nodded at Ulquiorra to take the point, and then stumbled slightly as he moved toward the door. At once both of them came to his side to support him. As they went through the door, Orihime placed his arm around her shoulders. He paused, and without looking up, knowing where the surveillance camera was with the best angle, he turned her slightly and smiled down at her, allowing all the affection he felt to show in his smile.

Then he took her head in his hands and bent to kiss her. Orihime's eyes were wide, but as she saw his smile, an answering one appeared on her lips, and he saw all her old emotion for him rising in her eyes.

He could not stop himself. His fingers tightened on her head as he drew her to him and brought his lips to hers. There was nothing gentle about him as he plunged into her mouth, allowing his hunger for her free rein for the moment, taking her lips aggressively, his tongue sweeping into her mouth which went soft and yielding at his advance. She sighed gently and relaxed in his hold, which only had the effect of maddening him. He wanted her. He wanted her now. She pressed her body against his and he ground his hips into her. It was agonizing.

He was surprised at the depth and power of his passions. He could not recall feeling like this for… a very long time. Even when he had taken her before in Las Noches he had been more restrained. Another effect of sensory deprivation. Presumably it would subside as his system became once again accustomed to normal sensory inputs.

Reluctantly but very gently he drew away from her. "I would stay with you like this forever, my dear, but we have an escape to complete," he murmured in her ear, and she nodded, something odd flaring in her eyes. He took her hand and the two of them followed Ulquiorra down the long prison hall as the Espada fired Cero after Cero, clearing the way for them as they ran.

XxXxXxX

He took another sip of the liquid and his eyes closed. Despite his long life, he had never tasted actual ambrosia. Yet he imagined such an elixir might taste like this. Sweet and intense and invigorating, each drop of the liquid was magic on his tongue. It tasted like bliss, sparking with the freshness of the brilliant fruit grown from the rich soil of the earth, carrying primal energy and life into his body.

Fresh squeezed orange juice had never tasted so good.

His reiatsu was still bound, but he could feel his weakened, desiccated spiritual centers rejuvenating with each sip of this incredible nectar.

Ulquiorra slid a plate covered with a steaming omelet onto the table before him and his nose wrinkled at the heavenly odor of the food.

"Thank you, Ulquiorra," he murmured as he picked up a fork. They had escaped Muken and successfully made the dimensional shift to a hidden base at a remote end of Hueco Mundo, an unprepossessing warehouse that had the valuable addition of large quantities of both spiritual and physical shielding, not to mention a fully equipped lab and cell block set up especially for Szayel's forays into the human world. The kitchenette where he now ate was utilitarian and dusty, having been unused for some time. Nevertheless, it satisfied his purposes.

His first meal after the long deprivation was almost too overwhelming. Although it was quite simple, he could feel his taste buds and olfactory nerves firing in utter joy. Surely no one had ever enjoyed a meal more.

Ulquiorra was speaking again and he forced himself to concentrate on the words even as he chewed the divine concoction that was sending blissful explosions of flavor straight into his brain.

"Szayel has sedated the woman and is monitoring her vital signs as you ordered, sir."

"Good," he replied. He was pleased his voice was calm and under control as always. "I want you alone in the room with her when she is released from the hypnotic controls. Keep her restrained while you show her the video of our escape. I am placing her well-being in your hands, Ulquiorra."

"I understand, sir," came the reply. "I will watch Szayel."

"I need a few days to fully recover and to re-establish contact with my agents in the three worlds. I will let you know when I am ready to meet with her again. In the meantime, I want her kept safe and away from contact with others. I wish to control the flow of information to her personally, do you understand?"

"Of course, Aizen-sama. It shall be done as you command."

As he savored another delicious bite of omelet, Aizen wondered anew at the flood of sensation and emotion swamping his mind. He felt delight and what felt disturbingly akin to gratitude at Ulquiorra's dedication. He definitely needed time alone to get himself under control. It would not do to have inconvenient emotions driving him during this delicate time. He was bereft of his powers and extremely vulnerable. It was not… prudent to be relying on others. He needed all his wits about him; he needed to be able to act decisively and without limitations.

He frowned. It had been a very long time since he recalled feeling such potent emotions. He had certainly experienced… fondness for certain of his subordinates in the past, but never anything quite as strong as he was feeling now. It could lead to inefficiency in his actions.

He had spent years burning out all feelings, all morals, all limitations from his soul. It would not do to have the work of centuries undone by a mere few months under sensory deprivation.

XxXxXxX

He had once been disgusted by his own intrinsic weakness, by the way he felt physically ill after his righteous revenge. In the Rukongai, having a conscience was only a limitation. The people who thrived were the ones who were the most ruthless. The soft ones were crushed.

He had decided early on that he would turn himself into someone powerful, someone no one could ever harm again.

It meant beating the weakness out of himself. To become strong in every possible way: physically, mentally, magically, and unfettered by morality.

It had taken decades. He trained himself relentlessly, just as he worked himself into peak physical condition or practiced kido or a kata over and over again, polishing every single detail until it was perfect. He applied the same ruthless conditioning to his mental state. At first he noted an inner shrinking during his actions even as he preserved a cold outer shell. Then finally came the welcome numbness after a kill.

He realized, one day, that he no longer cared about any other soul. It was… liberating.

He hadn't noticed, at first, that he had lost the ability to feel pure joy. That the most intense emotional experiences were now out of his reach. He had ignored the loss as a necessary step on the way to his goals. And… he had found other means to amuse himself.

He had sought pleasure in more subtle and complex forms of manipulation, toying with people around him merely to satisfy his own desires and whims. He recalled how he had finally taken Matsumoto Rangiku to his bed despite her attachment to his top lieutenant: the elaborate plan he had concocted involving a disposable sixth seat in their division, and the use of Kyouka Suigetsu and a rather large quantity of sake to ensure that neither Rangiku nor Gin ever knew what had really happened that night. How he had savored gloating to the terrified and bound sixth seat as he forced her to witness his crimes, there in the large bed with the dazed and drunken Rangiku; how pleasurable he had found it to set a hypnotized and inebriated Gin on the hapless sixth seat as he informed her calmly of her fate when her part in his scheme was over. Of what would happen to her when she was no longer of any use to him. What happened to anyone who was no longer of use to him.

He had maneuvered Hinamori Momo, that last night in Soul Society, into believing that _she_ had seduced _him_. What a performance he had delivered afterward, even shaking with supposed remorse. Oh it was delicious to see her drowning in guilt, agonizing over her 'transgression.' He knew that it would make his 'death' the next morning even more painful for her.

Yes… he had reveled in his evil. Not even a hint of a conscience had remained. It had been the perfect state to ascend to absolute power.

And then it had all gone wrong, and he had been left in the dark and silent prison.

Still, he had thought he could use it as yet another trial, yet another way to become stronger… and he had indeed developed a new ability. He had his escape plans. It was merely a matter of waiting until one of them came to fruition. He was patient, and he was immortal.

And yet… and yet… something had changed.

Somehow, in the dark and quiet, some part of his soul... had thrown off all his careful designs.

It was another setback. Unfortunate. He would have to repeat the steps he had taken before to return to his neutral state, free of limitations.

In the meantime, he had these bothersome… feelings… for people around him.

Especially… for a certain auburn-haired woman.

What was he going to do about that?

XxXxXxX

Sitting at his desk, he watched the surveillance cameras track the intruders into his building. They were approaching Orihime's cell, and he sighed as he checked his sword in its sheath. He still needed her; he was still bereft of his powers, and Ulquiorra was away on an errand. He sent a quick message to his former fourth Espada, then moved silently down the hall to Orihime's location. Despite not having his powers, he had trained for decades to fight without spiritual power. He knew how to use various weapons, and had studied several human martial arts. It always paid to be cautious.

As he approached, he could see several doors in the corridor had been kicked open. Voices were coming from her cell. Sudden anger burgeoned in him, and he quickened his pace. He slipped into an alcove as two men exited her cell. After they passed by, he continued on to the broken door of her cell, where another man was confronting his prisoner.

He stared at the man's back as he heard Orihime's soft voice bracing her attacker. Another surge of emotion swamped him. She was so brave, fighting back with nothing. Could he be feeling… pride? Without even thinking he struck, a clean stab directly into the man's back, killing him instantly.

As the man fell, Orihime stared at him, her eyes wide with shock… and terror. He found himself almost overwhelmed by the sight of her, those huge grey eyes, the thick fall of auburn hair, her beautiful and abundant body in those deliciously revealing casual clothes. He wanted nothing more than to kiss that terror away, to feel her body once more pliant under his hands…

Of course, he allowed nothing to show on his face. He had not been hiding his emotions for two centuries for nothing. His mask was perfect. He knew that he could not show her he had emotions for her. He could not reveal his weakness.

He found refuge in his role of a charming gentleman, as he fed her the most convincing of lies.

But he could not keep his hands off her. Even as he bantered and played the game, he found himself wanting to touch her, stroke her hair, move close to her. He took her hand as they ran down the hall toward the outside entrance. He picked her up and lifted her onto the platform as they made their escape with Ulquiorra steering. When he held her in his arms, felt her flesh soft, warm, and fragrant against his body, it took every ounce of his resolve to keep his touch gentle, to release her without giving away that he never wanted to let her go.

He sat beside her, acutely aware of her presence, so near to his own. Surely she would notice how he turned to her, how willingly he discussed his plans with her, how eagerly he chose to speak to her. When she mentioned how he had kissed her during the prison breakout, the memory set him on fire. He moved closer to her, touched her cheek, even as she shrank away from him.

He found that it was easy to play the part of a man in love… easier than it had ever been. He even found himself being more truthful and candid with her than he had planned. He admitted he was powerless; he returned her hairpins, although he had originally planned to withhold them from her until she agreed to serve his purposes.

He told himself that it would be easier to manipulate her if she felt more powerful than him. Although there was a risk in allowing her to know his physical weakness, he knew her well enough by now. Her essential compassion would not allow her to harm him, despite what she believed about his past crimes or his current plans. She might defend herself against an attack, but she would not destroy him in cold blood, no matter how much she believed he deserved it.

When he finally broke down her defenses, and kissed her… he felt triumph as he saw her response. It was so close… she was so close to falling for him again; he could see all the signs, even as she pushed him away.

He told her the truth about his imprisonment, the story he thought he would never admit, the agony of sensory deprivation.

When she resisted to the end, he decided it was time to pour on the charm and the lies, and tell her how important she was to him, how much she meant to him, how much he wanted her…

As she stared at him, her lovely eyes wide, passion and fury mingling in her irises as she finally… finally submitted to him, he scooped her up in his arms and felt her trembling. His own body was shaking with the effort of restraining his own passion.

And when he made love to her at last, it surprised him how violently he took her, how intensely he wanted her, but when she whimpered a moment in pain, something that had never stopped him before, he paused and became infinitely gentle. He felt endless patience with her. As they lay in bed giving pleasure to each other, he felt tender, as though he wanted nothing more than to please her. And when she reached her release, it triggered his own, the thought of her ecstasy driving him to a peak more intense than he had ever felt in his long life.

He found himself more eloquent than ever in his blandishments, the lies he had perfected over centuries to entice a lover more deeply into his control… he had been inspired, that night.

He thought afterwards that it must surely have been the effect of the sensory deprivation.

He had been happier than he could remember being.

XxXxXxX

But the next morning, she had once more demonstrated the danger she posed to him. Ulquiorra had even pointed out that he was delaying their movement for no good reason; she was already weakening him. And then…his reluctance to give up his indulgence in her presence had led to their detection by Soul Society. A potentially fatal error.

Fortunately, Yamamoto had wished to negotiate, not strike. It had still been a deadly opening. But then… she had made that absurd demand that he lower his defenses. She had demanded he leave himself vulnerable to attack. It was something he could not tolerate.

Reluctantly, he realized that she would be a liability to him no matter what.

He had never accepted liabilities or limitations on his personal ambitions. Every one of them had been destroyed.

XxXxXxX

She had still been of use to him, however.

He had required a specific performance of her during the negotiation with Soul Society's representative, and made it quite clear to her what she needed to do.

And afterwards, when he had successfully maneuvered Yamamoto's representative into giving him exactly what he had wanted from the beginning, he needed her for the use he had always intended for her, to release his bindings and re-enable the Hougyoku once again. He had always known it would take heroic persuasion to get her to obey his wishes, to unleash his power upon an unsuspecting world. It had been a supreme challenge, to manipulate this woman into performing actions that went against everything she ever believed in, that she would allow the devil himself to rule the universe.

It had been delicious. She had capitulated in every way.

And when it was done, he exulted in his triumph. He had - almost - won. Soon it would all be over. The power rose within his soul, intoxicating, overwhelming.

He would stand on top of the world.

XxXxXxX

He looked down at the merely human woman beside him, the woman who had given him so much… yet who had become in the end another liability. As he gazed upon her, he felt complex, confused emotions swirling within him, and it made him angry. A god should not feel such emotional upheaval.

Although his face was calm, he told himself that it was time to rid himself of this weakness. By destroying her, he would rebuild the damage that had been done to him by the sensory deprivation in Muken. He would harden his soul once again, make himself impervious to weakness, invulnerable, limitless.

He smiled at her very gently. "Orihime," he said, "I have no further use for you."


	24. Chapter 24

**The Challenge – Chap. 24**

(Originally posted 8/4/12.)

XxXxXxX

Aizen stood tall above the woman, declaring she was no longer of any use, telling himself that it was time to purge himself of all weaknesses…

But he found himself faltering.

He, who had never once hesitated to make a lightning-fast decision in battle or in secret, to destroy or grant life to other souls based solely on their utility to his own goals… found that some part of him did not wish to kill this frail human woman.

It was completely irrational. Surely he would overcome this illogical notion and come to his senses in a moment.

But something in the deepest part of his core had taken hold of him; some power within him that rose from the very depths of his soul had inundated him. Some part of him would not let her go.

She might be a weakness, but he was a god; surely he could afford one small weakness.

Or was she truly a weakness? Could she be… something else? Could she be…

_It was a lovely late spring day when the small child finally chewed apart the rope that encircled his ankle and crept out of the dingy hut. His mother had passed out in a drunken stupor so she did not notice as he unlatched the ill-fitting door and snuck out into the fields. Yellow flowers were blooming all around him in the tall grass, bees were buzzing, and fragrances far more pleasant than he usually encountered filled his nostrils. The brown-haired boy looked around him in delight. He ran for the joy of running, ran away on thin, bruised legs, breathing deeply of the fresh air and taking delight in the sun and wind. After a while, his legs began hurting and he started to limp, but he did not stop._

_At the edge of the field, in a sandy depression, he saw a flash of bright color. Curious, he limped over to the object. To his astonishment, he saw it was a brightly painted wooden ball. Cautiously, he looked around, but there was no one claiming this amazing toy. Hardly daring to believe his luck, he picked it up and tossed it in the air, caught it. Watching it spin and twirl in the air, catching it again, he felt joy bubble up in his heart._

_He had never had a toy before._

_He spent a good half hour playing with his new ball, running around the field, even laughing out loud._

"_Who are you?" asked a voice and he spun around in shock._

_At the edge of the field stood a small girl, perhaps his age, wearing threadbare rags like his own. But her hair was a brilliant flame, crowning her head in apricot-colored curls, falling halfway to his waist. He shrank back from her in shock._

"_My name is Hime," she said, smiling. "What's yours?"_

"_S-Sousuke," he stammered, unable to tear his eyes away from her._

"_Do you want to play?" she asked._

_He stared at her for a moment without speaking. He rarely saw other children, for his mother kept him away from the other village kids. Indeed, she almost always kept him tied up in the hut, telling him it was to keep him out of trouble. He had never seen another child up close._

_She had beautiful blue eyes above a thin, pale face. He had never seen such a vision. Hesitantly, he nodded._

_They dug in the dirt together, and she giggled when his hand brushed hers. Then she had shown him a game they could play with the ball. They began laughing and shrieking as they tossed it back and forth._

_She had just made a difficult overhand catch and he had grinned at her. There was a crashing in the brush and three larger children emerged. They stared at the two little ones playing, and the eyes of the biggest one narrowed._

"_Hime!" he said sharply, and the little girl froze._

"_Nii-san," she murmured._

"_We've been looking all over for you," he scolded. "Come here at once!"_

_She looked back shyly at Sousuke, hesitant to leave. The older boy scowled. "Don't you know who that is?" he demanded, his eyes hard as marbles. "That's the whore's bastard. You don't want to be seen with him." He sneered. "He's probably got all sorts of diseases, the dirty scum."_

_The girl's eyes widened as she cast a quick, frightened glance back at Sousuke. Then she scrambled to the side of her brother. The four children closed ranks in solidarity against the small boy._

"_Get out of here, brat!" hissed the oldest boy. "Don't you dare bother us again. Stay on your side of town!"_

_Sousuke took one hesitant step backward and stood unmoving. The group glared at him, then the oldest boy spun and indicated the others should follow him. The girl with the apricot hair did not meet Sousuke's eyes, looking down as she clung to the side of her older brother. The brown-haired boy watched them go in silence for a moment. Then his eyes went to the bright blue ball that the little girl was still holding. "That's my ball," he called. "I want it back."_

_The girl shrank back and clutched the ball. Sneering, the oldest boy spun to face Sousuke. "Oh yeah? Well, try and get it!" he taunted._

_Then he picked up a stone and threw it hard at the boy. It struck him in the cheek and he put his hand up in surprise. It came away with blood on his fingers. As he stared at his bloodstained fingers, suddenly a barrage of rocks came at him, several striking him in the face, one right in the eye. He screamed in pain and began running away, back to the hut, liquid pouring down his face and his eye burning, burning… in anguish, he held his hand to his eye but the pain did not stop. He could barely see out of the other eye as tears poured out of it._

_He made it back to the hut where he hid in the corner, sobbing._

_Both eyes became infected, and for many days he lay, unable to see, in a filthy corner of the hut. His mother cursed him over and over again, calling him useless, bastard, dirty. He heard voices as he lay in a feverish daze._

"_He's blind," said a male voice. "It's probably better to put him out of his misery."_

_His mother's voice came whining back, "How can I do that?"_

"_Take him to the midwife. For a small fee, she'll take care of it, and bury him for you."_

"_But I have no money!" she whined._

"_Hmph. Then I suppose you can wait till he dies on his own, and then bury him yourself."_

"_Noooo," she shrieked. "Help me!"_

_There was the sound of a slap, followed by a scuffle, then the door slammed and there was only whimpering._

_The boy lay in his corner, wondering what would happen to him, and almost not caring. What would it mean to never see again? Never to see those yellow flowers, the bright sunlight? Or bright blue eyes… he thought once again of the little girl with the beautiful hair… the girl who liked him until she understood who he truly was…_

_He closed his useless eyes and slept._

_Days passed, and painful nights. But despite all expectations, he did not die. He healed, and his sight returned. His eyes, though, had become weak after that episode, overly sensitive to light, unable to see very far away._

XxXxXxX

As he gazed upon Orihime, his eyes tracing her curves, returning to her grey eyes, falling into their depths, he recalled how it had felt when she released the bindings, not once but twice, and how he had felt her soul encompass his, enfold all his darkness… and accept him. She understood him. She knew exactly what he was… and she still loved him.

Despite her kindness and her morality, she loved him. Loved him even though he had long ago forsaken morality, although he had embraced darkness willingly, even avidly.

She loved him.

And in that moment, it suddenly meant more than another victory, another soul falling under his control.

_Many years later, some rich shinigami had started a charity school in the village. They had sent in a teacher, stated that they were going to teach everyone to read. The villagers had snorted; charity came and went, and food was preferable to books. But Sousuke, now a tall, thin eight-year-old, had gone. He had been desperate to learn, to understand more of the world around him so that he could somehow gain a foothold, could pull himself up out of the muck and scum of the bottom._

_The other boys had whispered and pointed, but he had ignored them. The school was for everyone._

_The teacher had smiled at him that first day, and he had returned the young man's gaze unsmiling. But he listened avidly as the man explained what they were to learn, looked at his books with reverence. At last, he might discover some of the secrets of the world around him._

_But during the afternoon break, one of the village elders had visited the school. His eye had lighted on Sousuke, and his brows had lowered. He had gone to the teacher and spoken to him in a low voice. The boy saw the man's face close. Later that day he had told him not to come back. Once it was known who he was, there was no room for him at the school._

XxXxXxX

Every day of his long life, everyone he had encountered had despised him if they knew who he truly was. Even his most loyal companions, like Gin and Kaname. Those who had loved him, like Hinamori, had admired only the illusion. Those who knew the truth had detested him.

He had been alone. He had always been alone.

Always, ever since he could remember, he had wondered, deep in his soul, so deep he had buried it below his consciousness, if he could ever find a companion, an equal. He had thought it would never happen. He was too powerful to have an equal, and he could never trust another whose power might approach his.

But Ichigo Kurosaki had felt it in his sword during their last battle. In his heart, what Aizen had always wanted more than anything else… was to no longer be alone.

_He had been maybe fourteen years old. Just come into his power, he had traveled on his own, through the far districts of Rukongai, making his way toward the center of all things: the Seireitei, and the Shinigami Academy. Tall and thin, with dark eyes and hair, he had at last come to the outskirts of the capital, where in the next few weeks the annual testing for shinigami student applicants would take place._

_He had a few stolen coins, and had approached a vendor in a marketplace stall for food. The assistant to the vendor was a young girl. She had peered up at him from beneath long lashes, meeting and holding his eyes. She was about his age, but with a lush, curvy body and a thick fall of golden hair. When she made change for him, she touched his hand just a little too long._

_They had met at the side of the river that night, and many nights afterwards. He had talked, for the first time, of his plans and his ambitions. She had looked at him in eager admiration, for she had never dared to dream of attending the Shinigami Academy._

_It occurred to him that here, at last, was someone who did not know his past; someone to whom he could be anything he wanted. He could let her know who he really was inside, not the labels that had been attached to him._

_One night, after she had begged him, he showed her some of his power. A heavy-set man had come out of a tavern, stumbling with drink. With a wave of his hand, he had cut off the man's air, made him collapse, and then rifled through his pockets. As he held up the man's wallet to show to his new friend, a grin stretching his lips, he was stunned to see the girl's face twisting with outrage and fear._

"_That's dark magic!" she had cried. "How can you do that? No, I don't want to see you again!" She had spun and ran away, leaving him alone in the dimming street, now empty except for the unconscious man at his feet._

_That night, he had finally grasped that once anyone knew who he really was, they would detest him. He had chosen darkness, and most others chose light. His soul was black and if ever others understood that, they would attempt to destroy him. In that moment he had sworn to always hide his true self, to never allow anyone to see what he was like again. It was imperative that no one truly understand him. No one was like him; he had no equals. He could never find a companion, a peer. He was alone. He would always be alone._

XxXxXxX

And as he stood over this frail woman with the power of a god and the vulnerability of glass, he wondered if at last, after two centuries, that which he thought would never happen… had indeed come to pass.

Orihime was powerful in her own right, but her power was completely different from and complementary to his. She was light to his darkness; compassion to his selfishness; boundless love to his soul which had never known love in all its long life.

It was a herculean task, to accept and love a man with a soul of such stygian darkness. And yet, as he gazed upon her, he knew she was strong. She stared back at him, terrified and yet refusing to bow. If he raised his hand to strike her down, he knew, she would fight back with all her might. Yet she would never strike the first blow, even if he stood over her and threatened her.

As he just had.

And finally, the true understanding of his time in sensory deprivation came to him, and he remembered the regret he had felt, not for his tactical errors in the final battle, not for the loneliness of his long life, not for the cruelties and murders he had committed… but for his abysmal behavior toward a single soul.

He had never considered the feelings or thoughts of another except as a means of manipulation before. But now… with a sudden blaze of emotion, he realized the devastating cruelty he had imposed upon Orihime, not just at this moment but throughout his encounters with her… and how her response had always been simply to love him. How she had forgiven every one of his transgressions. How she had known the bitterness it was to love a man such as himself.

How her body had united with his to create a child, an act of ultimate creation that had never happened to him before, not in two full centuries.

Like a lightning bolt to the heart, the regret he had felt only once before returned to him. She had grieved over their lost child… How could he think of destroying her? No, he had made a mistake… he had to let her know that he would never turn on her, that he would care for her for an eternity, that he would raise her to the throne of heaven beside him, that he would wait for her to trust him as he trusted her.

A strange and novel feeling of humility bloomed in his chest, eclipsing the colossal sensation of vast power he had so recently reacquired. And in that humility… could there be something of value after all? Could there be wisdom and balance; the balance of light and dark, as day followed night? The balance of the Universe, which the king was tasked to control.

Could one even hold the spirit throne without this balance? Alone, where had all his raw power led him? He had been arrogant, and that arrogance had led to failure.

Perhaps it was time to make the lies he had told truth. The entire time he had been speaking to her… he had assumed that he was lying, the way he always lied. But he had been unusually eloquent and persuasive, even for him.

He had outdone himself with her.

When he told her she had the powers of a god, that he needed her as his companion, that he loved her, he had been pleased with the surprising elegance and effectiveness of his lies.

But it had all been true.

This woman held the power of the divine… in her infinite compassion, her love, her kindness, the blinding light she had brought into his darkness. As he stood there, caught between one moment and the next, he could see the world expanding before him, the dark and threatening nature of existence suddenly inverted.

In his frozen soul he felt an outpouring of feeling, of utter joy, of an ecstasy he had never even dreamed of feeling, not in his entire blighted life.

XxXxXxX

_Aizen stood tall before her, his eyes dark and deadly beautiful, his face carved in marble, his words echoing in the room. His eyes glittered as he held her at arms' length; he held her, boneless, in his powerful arms, his fingers curving around her forearms ._

"_I have no further use for you."_

_She gasped as he moved closer. How long did it take a shinigami to draw their sword and stab their opponent?_

_He gazed at her steadily, and then enfolded her in a warm embrace. So, she imagined, might Momo have felt when he had embraced her. _

His voice was at her ear, soft, sweeter and darker than any honey. "You are no longer of any use to me; yet I wish you to stay at my side. Is that not sufficient proof that I have genuine feelings for you?"

She drew back and stared at him in astonishment. He held her tightly and stroked the hair away from her face. "I know that you do not trust me. I would like to begin today, the first of many days, an eternity of days to earn your trust. Come with me, stay by my side, and be my Goddess, Orihime."

Then, before she could react or think, he had taken her lips in his. His kiss… oh, how could she have thought his kiss was wonderful before, when his reiatsu had been sealed away; how could it compare with this, where … he was a sun, no, a star, no, a supernova, exploding, sparking, coruscating, winding his energy around hers, curling into her mouth with his tongue, a solar flare, burning with the primal rage of the early Universe, searing her, burning her… but she was no longer a woman but a being of flame, a soaring energy sprite in free space, in the unfettered, timeless space beyond the physical world. She could meet him without flinching. His tongue caressed her and she bent, she folded, she accepted, she submitted to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss and take her, possess her to her inmost core. She was his. He owned her body and soul and she opened to him, her mouth soft and yielding as he took her, his tongue exploring her mouth, his teeth nipping at her lips and then moving down her throat. She bared her neck to him and knew he could kill her with a single slash through her jugular, but instead he gently nibbled on her throat and moved on, the magnetic pulse of his mouth radiating across the field of her skin.

He was her God; despite all he had done, she accepted him. She stood in his radiance and allowed the petals of her heart to open to his dark brilliance.

She gasped and felt weak at the knees; she could no longer stand and she collapsed into his waiting arms.

XxXxXxX

She stood before him, clad in the unfamiliar, weighty garments. His eyes traveled over her body and his lips curled with satisfaction. She was wearing a heavy, cream-colored satin gown, elaborate with embroidery and tracings. A low-cut yet modest bodice covered her bosom; above it he had placed with his own hands a sapphire of approximately forty carats around her throat; the heavy gold links lay warm against her skin. A royal blue sash bound her narrow waist, and the rich pale cloth draped over her arms in wide, sweeping sleeves and was gathered at her waist to fall in long folds to the floor. Finally, he lifted the filigreed gold diadem into which he had set her hairpins and placed it on her head, stroking her hair back with his long fingers and then kissing her chastely on the forehead.

He stood back to admire the effect. She looked back at him, her eyes wide. "Do I really need all this?" she asked, gesturing at the robe and jewelry.

He smiled. He was wearing a similar outfit with an even more heavily embroidered robe and a wide royal blue sash with flowing ends. He wore no jewelry, but his skin appeared to glow from within with his power, and she could sense the Hougyoku pulsing within his chest. She had to admit he looked the part of a god with his chiseled features above the sweeping elegance of his clothing.

Very gently he said, "I want them all to see that you are my Empress, Orihime. It is true that clothing should not matter, but for a group as traditional and conservative as Soul Society, appearances are unfortunately vital. I wish them to give you the respect and obeisance you are due."

She looked down. "But I don't want worship…" she whispered.

His fingers stroked her chin and one finger tipped her face up to face his. "My dear, think of it this way. There is still plenty of opportunity for them to betray us. The war is far from over, and this is your uniform for battle." His eyes studied her face. "If they perceive you as merely a human girl whom I've kidnapped, they might try to attack, to split us. What this shows," he gestured at the robe, "is that you are my ally and partner, my Goddess. They will think twice before attempting to strike against our united front." His eyes lifted to Ulquiorra, standing silently beside them, arrayed in a similar outfit. "And as you remember from your previous stay in Las Noches, there are many even in my own army who need to be forcibly reminded of your status. So additionally, I wish to avoid having to punish my own people for any foolish actions."

Remembering Loly and Menoly, she nodded slowly.

"Now, my dear," he murmured, "be strong. There is so much that can still go wrong. But if you stand beside me, I am certain we will triumph. Are you ready?"

Eyes wide, she finally nodded.

He had spent much of the last hour or two making battle preparations. He had used human and Soul Society technology to issue many rapid-fire commands to various members of his army (she had been surprised at how many agents he still had), including Szayel, Grimmjow, humans, even shinigami who had remained secretly loyal to him, deploying all of them according to some elaborate, pre-arranged strategy. A quick call to a local tailor and the new outfits had been delivered only twenty minutes ago.

Orihime still felt shell-shocked. The odd sincerity of his words had compelled her to finally think he might be telling the truth, but the sudden change in her status from prisoner to Queen was alarming. And his serene but intense series of commands to his far-flung army had wiped out the intimacy of the previous couple of days, as she suddenly realized she had once again been thinking of her relationship with him as one individual to another.

But he was a lord and ruler, perhaps about to become a king and god… or to go down in battle.

She was only a simple girl from the wrong side of Karakura Town, and all of this was overwhelming.

He saw her distress in her face, and kissed her again. "Orihime, soon we will win this war, and then the two of us will have more time together." He smiled at her. "We shall sit on the Spirit Throne before too long, and nothing shall keep us from whatever we wish for." He stroked her brow lightly. "Will you bear with me, Orihime, for at least a little while longer?"

She met his eyes and nodded again. His arm tightened around her. "Excellent." He raised his eyes to Ulquiorra. "It's time for us to go."


	25. Chapter 25

**The Challenge – Chap. 25**

**A/N: **The outfits Aizen and Orihime are wearing in this story can be seen in the cover icon or in greater detail on the very talented **Child of the Ashes'** deviantart page,_ child-of-the-ashes. deviantart dot com /art/The-Empress-and-the-Magician-302051562_ (remove the spaces for the link). She very kindly made that fanart for me. Amazingly, it was drawn before the last chapter was written, but it captures the spirit of the pairing in this story beautifully. Thank you so much, **Child of the Ashes**!

Thanks to all my reviewers, including anonymous reviewers **Sachianna, Guest, Jade, QueenBlade, shelleydreadfull, boho, someone, mella** and **wanda lensherr** for their very kind words about the last two chapters. I really appreciate the support for this work. This is not a conventional 'good guy defeats the villain' story, so support from you makes a difference to me.

(Originally posted 8/11/12.)

XxXxXxX

They stood in the skies above Karakura Town, arrayed in all their finery, Orihime and Ulquiorra flanking Aizen as Gin and Tousen once had. Below them, a bell tower began to strike noon.

In a sudden flash, Yamamoto was there, accompanied by an entourage of more than a dozen Soul Reapers, Vizards, and… Ichigo.

Orihime bit her lip at the sight of her friend. His eyes widened as he saw her at Aizen's side, and she saw him take in the richness of her clothing and settle on the hairpins visible in her diadem. He was scowling, and she could tell he was puzzled and angry.

Rukia stood stiffly, her face set not in a furious but a grieving scowl. Orihime stared at her in distress. Her grief seemed out of proportion to Orihime. Could something far worse than the potential betrayal of a friend have happened?

But then her attention was drawn back to Yamamoto as the man thumped his staff in the air and a hollow boom sounded. Beside him, Rukia lifted an elaborately filigreed metal chest about the size of a breadbox.

Orihime glanced at Aizen. His eyes were fixed on the chest, and a smirk of triumph curled his lips. She could sense the colossal power emanating from the chest, barely held in check by some type of binding spell holding the device closed.

Yamamoto took several steps forward. "Aizen!" he called, glaring under beetled brows at the other man.

Aizen merely smiled at the angry shout and said nothing. But Orihime could sense his nonverbal response; Aizen was raising his power ever so slowly. She could feel his incredibly dense reiatsu rising; she could see it buffeting the shinigami in the front row of Yamamoto's entourage. She noticed something else odd and glanced down at her own hands. To her surprise, they were glowing. She shot a quick glance at Aizen and saw that there also seemed to be radiance emanating from underneath his skin, and that Ulquiorra was giving off the same illumination.

The light was so bright now it was shining on their counterparts in Yamamoto's group. Orihime saw them beginning to squint, and a few of them turned away. Others raised a hand to their brows to shade their eyes from the brilliance.

"Aizen!" shouted Yamamoto again. "Enough!" he demanded, pounding his staff. "We are here to sign a treaty, not to engage in a pointless display of power dominance!"

Aizen was quiet and his face remained serene. But the brilliance of the light surrounding the three of them ebbed slightly. "It is only pointless, Captain-commander," he pointed out softly, "if you are the one being dominated."

Yamamoto growled, "Are you ready to sign?"

"May I inspect the King's Key?" asked Aizen, his tone flawlessly polite.

The old man made a gesture and Rukia strode forward, the chest upheld in both hands. She stopped and Yamamoto removed the binding spells with a flick of his hand. At once the lid flew open and Orihime saw that inside, nestled on a bed of red velvet, lay a small cylindrical object about the size of a blackboard eraser. With the lid open, the raw energy pouring out of the device was more pronounced. She could see that Rukia was panting under the effort of holding the container still. Aizen's reiatsu was unaffected by the power emanating from the Key; his face was abstracted as he probed the object, and then he nodded.

"Good. It is satisfactory," he stated. He inclined his head. "I am now prepared to seal a treaty of alliance with you, Captain-commander." He waved his hand and Ulquiorra stepped forward with a roll of parchment. "I trust you will find this satisfactory?"

Yamamoto glared, and Orihime could see that he had wanted to present a version of the document himself. His eyes flicked to Kyouraku, who stood at his side holding a folio that appeared to contain parchment, and then returned to Aizen. "We will read your document," he ground out, "and determine if it is satisfactory. If not, then you will sign our version."

Aizen inclined his head but said nothing as Yamamoto took the rolled-up parchment and began to read.

Everyone was silent as the old man perused the document. The only sounds were the muted noises of traffic seventy stories below them on the streets of downtown Karakura. Aizen's expression remained calm and pleasant as he waited patiently for the old man to finish reading.

At last the man looked up, and Orihime felt a note of suspicion muted by surprise in the Captain-commander's reiatsu.

"This is acceptable," he stated. Kyouraku handed him a pen and he signed it. The parchment duplicated itself magically and Aizen signed it as well. The two leaders bowed to each other, and then Aizen turned to Rukia. She moved as if to give him the entire chest, but he simply plucked the glowing cylinder from its velvet bed.

His eyes glittered as he finally held the object he had sought for so long. "Thank you, soutaichou, for placing the Key in my hands."

The old man's face stiffened slightly at the mocking tone of Aizen's words, but he said nothing.

"Now then," Aizen went on. "I suppose you'd like me to return to Seireitei to destroy these pesky invaders, correct?" He tilted his head as a smirk teased his lips. "As an escaped prisoner, what guarantees do I have that I can return without harm?"

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed fractionally. "It was all written out in the document we both signed, Aizen."

"I want to hear it from your lips, soutaichou," Aizen drawled lazily.

In a stilted tone, the old man said, biting off each word, "Sousuke Aizen is hereby pardoned of all crimes and offered a position as honorary captain of the 13 Court Guard Squads."

Aizen nodded and made a sweeping gesture at the crowd around them. "Ah, and before witnesses, Captain-commander. You have my thanks. I accept your gracious offer." His face stilled. "But I shall remember the words you said to me earlier, soutaichou. Never forget that." Then his expression relaxed and became amiable. "For now, I am ready to fight at your side, along with my armies."

He paused, studying each of his former opponents' faces. Then he turned his head and called, "Come, Szayel and Grimmjow."

At his words, huge gargantas cracked open the heavens, and in the dark slashes in the blue sky, the vast armies of the former Lord of Las Noches could be seen, massed and waiting.

Aizen said casually, "Szayel and other agents of mine recaptured Hueco Mundo this morning, and mobilized all my forces there and in the world of the living. We are now ready to push back the Vandenreich in Soul Society." He turned to Yamamoto. "If you will do us the honor of opening a senkaimon, sir, we shall follow you back to Seireitei."

The old man's eyes traveled over the masses of soldiers awaiting Aizen's command. He suddenly looked very old and tired. Then with a sigh he turned and cast the spell to open the senkaimon, and allow the former traitor and his minions free access to the center of Soul Society.

XxXxXxX

Orihime looked up at Aizen as they strode through the Dangai precipice corridor. His face was stern but pensive, though still lit with that unearthly radiance.

"Aizen-sama," she said, screwing up her determination, "Please don't send me away. I want to fight at your side."

"Hm?" He looked down at her, distracted, and his brows lowered. "What?"

"I want to fight at your side," she repeated. "Don't leave me behind in some 'safe location.'"

Aizen raised a brow. "Of course. Did you think I would want you anywhere else?" One corner of his mouth turned up. "I need your power, Orihime. I am not like those humans who think you are merely a fragile flower to be protected." His eyes darkened. "I have been saying from the beginning that your power is that of a god. Don't tell me you believed them and not me?"

She looked up at him, astonished. He was smiling now as his lips brushed the top of her head. "I need you, Orihime. I need you by my side."

She threw back her shoulders subtly, hearing that confidence in her that she had so rarely heard before, that belief in whatever she could accomplish. She met his eyes and gave a firm nod. "I will stay by you, Aizen-sama, and give my life to help you."

He smiled again. "That won't be necessary, my dear. We shall both stay alive. But—there is one small matter."

She looked up at him in inquiry.

"Enough of this 'Aizen-sama' from you. Call me Sousuke," he murmured.

She blushed and dropped her eyes. "All right… Sousuke."

XxXxXxX

Aizen had gone on ahead to confer with various others on military strategy against the Vandenreich, leaving Orihime walking by herself through the Dangai. She was taken aback when Rukia came up beside her. Orihime essayed a tentative smile at her friend, but was not surprised when the woman frowned at her. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her lids swollen.

Alarmed, Orihime could not help a cry of dismay. "Rukia! What happened?"

The petite woman lowered her brows and ignored her question. "Why are you helping Aizen?" she demanded. "I understand that he kidnapped you and has some hold over you, but you should be fighting back more. It really looks like you're on his side now."

Orihime sighed. She knew she had lost a friend, maybe more, by her actions of the past few days. "I'm sorry, Rukia." She lowered her eyes. "I am on his side."

Outraged, Rukia glared at her. "What? Why? He tried to kill me, you know. He's a murdering bastard. We're in this alliance only because…" She suddenly blinked back tears to Orihime's amazement. It was not like Rukia to show this kind of emotion. "Because we're desperate," Rukia finished. "There's no need for you to willingly help him. For goodness' sake!" she cried suddenly. "You're standing in Ichimaru's place behind Aizen! You look like you've become his lieutenant."

Orihime blushed and looked down. "I'm sorry. I know what he's done to you, all the terrible things he's done to Soul Society." She looked up and met the shinigami's blazing eyes. She had to be honest with her friend. Rukia had to hear the truth from her lips and not from rumors. She took a deep breath. "But I'm not just his lieutenant. I restored his powers willingly. I'm more than just his ally… I'm his lover."

She knew she would see the stunned disbelief on Rukia's face, but she had not realized how much it would hurt. She knew that she had just lost a dear friend. The woman's face closed in shock and disgust. Shaking her head, Rukia snarled, "Then I have nothing more to say to you," and she fell back, leaving Orihime to walk alone, blinking back tears.

XxXxXxX

As they came out of the senkaimon into Soul Society, onto the raised ground overlooking the city, Orihime gasped at the devastation. Spread out before her, the Seireitei was in ruins, buildings tumbled into rubble, smoke hanging like a pall over the shattered city. Fires dotted the capital, plumes of dark smoke rose from the wreckage, and the Central 46 chambers were burning fiercely.

The air was still and hot, and the scent of putrid decay wafted to her from the ruins below. She smelled what she first thought was roasted meat, and then realized to her horror it was burning flesh. The nearer streets that were visible to her were lined with dead bodies. Rukia had not been exaggerating about the desperate situation.

Beside her, she saw Aizen lift his gaze to the far right, and there she saw the massed forces of the Vandenreich, their banners hanging limply in the acrid air. Their army was vast and imposing. Orihime's eyes went to their own forces; also a large group, but she could see they were significantly smaller in numbers than the Vandenreich. She felt her heart clench in fear.

An unseated shinigami pushed forward through the crowd to whisper in Yamamoto's ear. The commander closed his eyes briefly and sighed. Then he stumped up to a patch of raised ground and cleared his throat to address the assembled joint armies of shinigami, Arrancar, and humans.

"Before you go into battle, let me remind you not to use your bankai should you have one," he announced. "They can steal bankai." She heard various sharp intakes of breath around her. Then he sighed heavily and continued, his voice rough, "As we have learned to our dismay only recently. As I told you before I left, we had just heard that Captain Kuchiki of the Sixth Division was cut down by his own bankai this morning. He was in critical condition, and unfortunately, we have just received news that the healers were unable to save him and he has passed away."

"No!" It was Rukia, now crying angrily. She clenched her fists and then abruptly turned, pushing her way through the massed fighters. Orihime sucked in her breath. That must have been why she was teary earlier… she must have known Byakuya had been attacked. And now… for her brother to be dead… Orihime's eyes widened and she ran toward where the girl had disappeared into the crowd.

Rukia was standing beside two Sixth Division officers, her face grim and set.

"Rukia—" Orihime gasped out, "I—"

Rukia spun to face her and pushed her away angrily. "Leave me alone, you goddamn traitor! I never want to talk to you again." she cried and turned away, sprinting through the crowd.

Orihime stood staring at the spot where Rukia had disappeared for a moment, her thoughts whirling furiously. Then she turned to the other shinigami. "Take me to Byakuya Kuchiki!" she demanded imperiously. One of the men raised his eyebrows, and Orihime faltered. "I—I'm a healer," she said, pleading.

"Not much you can do to heal him, madam, as he's dead."

She shook her head. "Take me to see him anyway."

The two shinigami looked at each other, and then one of them shrugged. "I suppose it won't do any harm. Come with me."

He led her along the burned-out streets. They walked silently amidst the rubble with dogs barking in the distance. As they passed one corner, Orihime heard heartbroken wailing from behind half-tumbled walls. At last they arrived at the ruins of a great palace, marble walls half-standing, shattered windows looking like blank, dead eyes.

In a once-grand room where the grimy sunlight poured in through broken walls, upon a white marble table in the exact center of the hall, lay the body of Captain Byakuya Kuchiki. Rukia was there, tears leaking out from lids squeezed tight, being embraced by a tall woman Orihime did not recognize. They were rocking together in hopeless misery, standing before the body which had not yet been cleaned or prepared.

Slowly, Orihime approached the table, steeling herself to keep her stomach from rebelling. She fell to her knees in front of the once-proud man. His body had been sliced open by thousands of tiny cuts, destroyed by his own bankai; dried blood splattered over the ruined flesh.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hands grimly, called out "Souten Kisshun" and raised her shield over the man. She only hoped it wasn't too late. She had restored Menoly to life, but that had been within moments of her death. She knew there were limits to her power; when she had tried it on a couple of people who had been dead for several days, she had been unsuccessful.

But Byakuya had died no more than an hour or two ago; his bankai stolen by a member of the Stern Ritter. She closed her eyes and focused harder than she had ever focused before.

To her chagrin, there was nothing for her to focus on. There was a change under her shield, but it was merely cosmetic. She felt Byakuya's body returning to the state it had been in life; his skin beautiful and unmarked. But no life, no breath animated his corpse. His brain was not functioning.

She kept the shield up, feeling as though she were beating her head against a wall. Nothing was happening, but she could not bear to drop her shield. Tears began slipping down her face and dropping on her outstretched arms.

No. There was no use. She could not do it.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and another reiatsu buttressing hers. Gentle but vastly powerful, Aizen's reiatsu had a characteristic feel to it and she felt herself yearning towards him, melding with him. He had come for her.

His power brought her renewed energy and she closed her eyes and went deeper into herself, remembering the noble shinigami captain as he had been when she last saw him. "I reject!" she called out again, and this time, with Aizen supporting her, she was able to go deeper into the trance, and this time, she felt her healing powers latch onto something. She intensified the shield and poured all of herself into the effort, giving of herself without ceasing. Behind her, she felt Aizen transferring energy into her to strengthen her depleted reserves, filling her with power.

At last she opened her eyes, panting for breath, trembling and exhausted. The shield faded. Aizen took her in his arms and held her tightly, continuing to restore her power, a look of deep concern in his eyes.

The man on the table before her stirred and opened his eyes. There were gasps from all around the room.

The others hesitated, their eyes going from Aizen and Orihime to the man now sitting on the table, apparently completely healed… but their eyes were full of fear. They clung to each other, not daring to approach the one who appeared to have been brought back from the dead.

Rukia was the first to move. She strode forward, suspicion marking her face. "Who are you?" she asked, her hand on her zanpakutou. "Are you my brother, or has your body simply been reanimated?"

Byakuya sat up, his face stern as always, and frowned. His eyes scanned the ruined walls, the broken windows, the crowd including Orihime in her white robes; and finally they narrowed when they lit upon Aizen. "What is going on here?" he said in his cool, imperious voice.

"Nii-sama!" cried Rukia and rushed forward to fall upon her brother.

He returned her embrace, sitting stiffly upon the marble slab, his forehead slightly wrinkled. Then he gently removed Rukia's arms from his neck. He frowned at the crowd of astonished faces around him. "What is the problem?" he inquired coolly.

"You're alive!" cried Rukia, tears streaking her face.

"Of course," he said. Then a shadow passed over his face and he looked down at his arms and hands in wonder. "Was I—injured?"

"You were dead!" cried Rukia. "Orihime brought you back!" Rukia said. She turned to Orihime, her face working. "You brought my brother back to life." Her voice was full of wonder. "Even after I called you a traitor and renounced my friendship with you."

Orihime blushed and looked away. "That doesn't matter," she mumbled. "I still had to try to help him." Her eyes flicked to Aizen standing beside her, silent. "Aizen-sama helped too. I couldn't have done it without his power."

Rukia glanced at her former enemy and then back at Orihime as the emotions flashed across her face. Then she took Orihime in a tight embrace, burying her face in the taller woman's hair.

Behind them, on the marble slab, a Kuchiki medic was examining Byakuya. He raised his voice. "It is true!" he called out. "Lord Kuchiki has been returned to us in perfect health." There was something that sounded like awe in his voice. "He has been brought back from the grave."

There were murmurs of astonishment all around. Then a dozen or so people surged forward, crowding around Orihime, tugging at her sleeves. "My husband, you must heal my husband—" one said. "My son fell only yesterday," begged an old woman, weeping.

Orihime looked at them all, confused. Could she heal all of them? Of course she must try. "Yes," she said. "Bring me to them…"

There was a sudden bright flare of reiatsu and Aizen's hand on her arm stopped her. "No," he commanded. "She will not heal anybody else. Not now."

There was muttering all around and looks of dark anger. "Who are you to say that?"

"We were brought here to fight the Vandenreich," Aizen said calmly. "Orihime is needed at the battle front. If she does not fight there, the battle may not be won, and then many more will die." He looked around at the hostile stares of the crowd and raised his reiatsu until they all backed away. "Once we have completed the task that your own Captain-commander asked us to do, then Orihime may return. But she can only heal people who are still living, or who passed away very recently." He raised his head to look at the ranking shinigami. "I suggest you triage your wounded and dead, and prepare a location where she can work." His eyes narrowed. "And I will not have her exhausting herself."

They stared at her, still longing, but at the pressure of Aizen's reiatsu, they muttered and scurried away.

Byakuya rose from the table, his eyes on Aizen, his face dark with anger. "Aizen! What are you doing here?" With a single, lithe movement, he drew his sword. "Why are you not under arrest?"

Rukia tugged at his arm. "Nii-sama," she said, and pulled him down so she could whisper urgently in his ear. He stared at Aizen in rising alarm and understanding as she continued to speak. His eyes searched both Aizen's and Orihime's faces as he listened; then he nodded curtly, sheathing his sword.

Aizen locked eyes with his former colleague for a long moment. "Kuchiki-taichou," he said formally, inclining his head. "We go now to defeat the Vandenreich." Ignoring the muttering all around him, he took Orihime's hand once again and guided her to the shattered door. Once outside, they began flash-stepping along the burning, shattered streets.

XxXxXxX

There were mounds of dead bodies. Orihime steeled herself as she strode beside Aizen on the way to the battleground. All around them were smoking ruins, broken glass, pavement seared and warped by heat. The sun beat down through the acrid-smelling, thick air.

The battle had already begun, with shouts and the clanging of swords and the cries of the wounded and dying.

Then one of the enemy was upon them, and Orihime used her Shiten Koushun. She gulped and swallowed as her power cut him down, and then she firmed her lips and turned to the next enemy soldier. Aizen was standing beside her making sweeping gestures, and she could sense that he was preparing a powerful spell. Then, with a single word, he released a bolt of energy and dozens of enemy soldiers fell, the life force slashed from their bodies.

They fought on. Orihime thought she could not bear it. She was not made for war, but she kept fighting. She had resolved that she would defend her friends, and finally her loyalties were no longer divided. She was fighting on the same side as Ichigo, and Rukia, and everyone she knew. She could only push down her feelings and keep battling as she had trained.

It seemed to take hours. She was exhausted, both defending and attacking, but she grimly continued. She dodged one powerful attack after another. Several times it occurred to her that she could die here, on this hot, smoky, bloodstained battlefield that reeked of the depths of Hell, here in this alien dimension so far from her home. She was pushed away from Aizen, and fought her way back to his side.

He was powerful, but the sheer numbers of the opponents were wearing him down. Although he remained placid in the face of the attack, his robes had become torn and bloodstained. She called out 'Shiten Koushun' one more time and her fairies attacked the men facing Aizen, taking them down so she could at last return to his side. But before she could reach him, she swayed under the onslaught of a reiatsu more powerful than she had hitherto encountered. Her eyes widened as she recognized the leader of the Vandenreich from the pictures she had been shown.

A huge man stood before them, wearing a white double-breasted trench coat under a black cloak. He had shaggy black hair reaching to his shoulders and red-brown eyes glowing with an insane light. "Aizen!" he said, his voice rough and grim. "Why are you assisting these bastards? I thought you were the enemy of Soul Society."

Aizen raised one eyebrow, calm as always. "We have become allies. Your efforts are disturbing the balance of the worlds."

The man guffawed. "You never cared about the balance, Aizen! I thought you wanted to take the throne of the world for yourself!"

"Indeed," Aizen replied, "if the world is destroyed, there would be no throne for me to take."

The man scowled fiercely, giving a brutal laugh. "I despise conflict, but you thrive on it, Aizen. How did you convince these fools to take your side?"

The brown-haired shinigami smiled. "You did."

Then Orihime felt a huge clashing of power as Aizen's reiatsu rose. He had been building a wordless spell, and Orihime gasped as she saw a vast black monolith appear where the Vandenreich leader had stood. She recognized Hado 90, the Black Coffin, the spell she had seen Aizen use before so long ago on Soukyoku Hill.

This time, it was not the failure he said it had been then. The size of the black monolith was far greater than before, and as it imploded, piercing its occupant with colossal purple bolts of energy, she saw the man's body detonate into a myriad of tiny chunks of flesh. She gasped and put up her shield to protect herself and Aizen, and when she looked up again, the man's head had been torn from his body. She gasped as the decapitated, bloody appendage rolled toward them and the bleeding lips peeled back in a rictus grin.

Somehow, a voice was issuing from that grotesque, severed head. It was… _laughing_, a creepy, high-pitched snigger. "You fools!" it cried. "It's already too late. I've set everything up. The spell was triggered on my death. And now… the balance can no longer be maintained! You're all going to die, and the world will die with you!"


	26. Chapter 26

**The Challenge – Chap. 26**

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, including anonymous reviewer** QueenBlade** for your kind comments about the last couple of chapters.

(Originally posted 8/18/12.)

XxXxXxX

_Somehow, a voice was issuing from that grotesque, severed head. It was… laughing, a creepy, high-pitched snigger. "You fools!" it cried. "It's already too late. And with my death… the balance can no longer be maintained! You're all going to die, and the world will die with you!"_

XxXxXxX

It shrieked with falsetto laughter until Aizen shot a bolt of light out of his palm and vaporized it.

Suddenly there was silence, and Orihime staggered back, wondering what the Vandenreich leader could have been talking about. She was still reeling under the impact of the colossal clash of energies she had just sensed, as the two leaders had battled, their spiritual pressures colliding.

Aizen's power had grown far more than she had imagined. She had not realized how much more powerful he was now, but she remembered how devastatingly strong he had been even the first time Ichigo had battled him, stopping her friend's sword with a single finger.

And now… against the Vandenreich leader, who had led an army that had defeated the most powerful captains in the Gotei 13, who had completely obliterated the capital city of the Seireitei, the city which had stood for a thousand years… this man had himself been annihilated by a single spell of Aizen's.

She looked at the brown-haired shinigami beside her. His eyes were calm as he returned her glance. Without even looking to the side, as a wave of soldiers came running up to attack, he gestured and a score of them fell to the ground, lifeless.

In that moment, she understood what it meant to stand by the side of a god.

XxXxXxX

They stood beside Yamamoto once more on the high land overlooking the ruined city below. The elderly shinigami bowed his head. With the death of the Vandenreich leader, the enemy forces had pulled back, but they could all see they were still regrouping.

Yamamoto exhaled harshly. "They will not stop fighting until the very last one is dead." His eyes went to Aizen. "But you have sensed what is happening, haven't you." It was not a question.

Aizen met his eyes. "The leader triggered a spell with his death that has sent the balance of souls within the worlds completely out of equilibrium." He continued calmly. "We don't have much longer."

"I estimate one hour, or maybe less," the elderly captain said. "One hour until the end of the world." He looked at Aizen. "If our forces hold the Vandenreich here, can you make it to the fountain in the central courtyard of the spirit palace? The only way to keep the universe from imploding is for a king with sufficient power to utilize the primal power source of all the worlds." His rheumy eyes scanned Aizen's face. "Are you aware of the necessary spells to perform?"

Aizen's voice was calm as always. "Of course." A faint smile appeared on his lips. "I broke into the archives of the Central 46 specifically to learn the royal lore and commit it all to memory."

Yamamoto's eyes darkened, but he said nothing.

"I will lead my forces now into the Spirit Realm, Captain-commander. I suggest you send your strongest fighters with me, and retain only just enough force here to keep the Vandenreich at bay."

Yamamoto slowly shook his head. "I will send them all with you; those who retain their bankais. I alone will stay here and hold off this horde." His eyes strayed to the still-vast Vandenreich army. "Good luck to you, Aizen-taichou."

Aizen nodded once at the honorific, understanding that Yamamoto did not believe he would survive this battle. "Good wishes to you as well, soutaichou. I will defeat that thing that calls itself the Spirit King and restore the balance of the worlds." He turned away.

Orihime hastened to follow him. In the distance, she could hear calling, wailing, orders being given. Healers were running back and forth, carrying stretchers to the makeshift hospital which had been established in one of the buildings which had escaped most of the damage. Other fighters were regrouping, forming up into battalions, standing at attention. Ulquiorra, looking somewhat the worse for wear, his face stoic as ever, was, as always, waiting by the side of his lord. Behind him, Orihime could see Grimmjow and Szayel standing at the head of a platoon of Arrancar.

Aizen turned to the soldiers ranked all around them and spoke quietly, but his voice carried to the ends of the plateau. "I will enter the Spirit Dimension now and we will fight the Royal Guard. When I have defeated the Spirit King, I will rebalance the three worlds. We have one hour. The magic needed to accomplish these tasks is arcane and delicate. I will need you all to follow my orders accurately and instantly, even if they do not appear to make sense; is that clear?" His eyes traveled over the battle-weary soldiers. "If anyone disobeys, even in the smallest of actions, there is a risk of failure to the rebalancing." His voice hardened. "Therefore, I will destroy any fools who do not obey any of my commands at once. Understood?" There was some murmuring from the shinigami ranks, but eventually the commanders of each group acknowledged the instruction with a nod.

He glanced at the woman beside him and lowered his voice. "I know you are tired, Orihime. Do you wish to stay behind and rest?"

She shook her head vigorously and he nodded in grim satisfaction. "Very well. Let us begin."

The Captain-commander nodded stiffly and Aizen returned a relaxed, confident smile. With a lazy wave of one hand, he cleared a space in front of him magically, lifted the rune-covered metal cylinder in his other hand and began the ritual of Opening.

XxXxXxX

The gate took them directly to the base of the wide marble steps leading up to the Spirit Palace, its spires and arches rising impossibly high above them. Aizen stood at the head of their army, the King's Key uplifted, holding the dimensional portal open until everyone had traversed the gate. Beside him, Orihime gazed around her in wonder and amazement. The very air of the Spirit Realm was richer, heavier with power, more dense with spirit particles than any other dimension she had visited. Around them were the gardens of the palace; she could see the rich greenery and fragrant blossoms extending out into the distance, and at the very end of the long slope lay a brilliant blue lake.

There was a ripple in the ambient reishi and suddenly a score of figures had materialized on the steps facing them, swords drawn. They wore robes reminiscent of the Gotei 13 uniform, but with a white kosode under a black hakama, topped by a white haori with an odd circular insignia on the back.

A tall, red-haired woman stood at their head, a flaming sword in her hand, her hair pulled back in a bun with a few tendrils escaping to frame her stern, unsmiling face. Aizen stepped forward to greet her.

"Hikifune-taichou," he addressed the woman, smiling pleasantly. "It has been a very long time." His eyes flicked to her insignia. "So you are now captain-commander of the Royal Guard. Congratulations on your promotion."

Orihime sucked in her breath. So this was the captain she had heard about, who had been promoted to the Royal Guard over a hundred years ago.

Hikifune's eyes narrowed. "So you have maneuvered and tricked your way to the last defense of the Royal Realm," she retorted, her mouth a grim line. "I have heard tales of your evil, Sousuke, of how far you have fallen," she said sternly. She gestured to where the Hougyoku glowed in his chest. "I am aware of the infernal device you are using to sustain yourself, which feeds upon living souls, and I know how to counter it. Do not think you will pass the Royal Guard. We are prepared to send you down to the Hell you deserve." She raised her sword and took a ready stance.

Rather than attacking, Aizen held her eyes. "I am quite certain you are familiar with this type of device, seeing as the Spirit King has been sacrificing thousands of living souls to maintain his existence this past century."

Her eyes darkened momentarily. "Do not dare speak of what is beyond you, evildoer."

Aizen shrugged. "Am I truly so evil in comparison to the one you serve?" he asked lightly. "What of the exiles and deaths we have seen in the past century, all to sustain a creature who has outlived his normal existence and now clings to the spirit throne, cowering behind the defenses of the Royal Realm? Why does the King make no move to restore the balance, to send troops to protect the Seireitei, his guardians of the three worlds?"

The tall woman's lips tightened. "The King's actions are not for us to question. We are bound to serve him; that is all."

"Even if those actions lead to the destruction of all the worlds?"

Her eyes narrowed further. "What do you mean?" she ground out, gripping her sword more tightly.

Aizen made a nonchalant gesture. "Surely you have felt the soul imbalance throughout the worlds. Are you not aware that we are very close to the tipping point where it will no longer be possible to reverse the imbalance and prevent the destruction of our worlds?"

She took a step back, hissing. "You lie! We have felt nothing here."

"Why don't you ask His Majesty what the spirit fountain tells him?" Aizen's tone was mocking. "You know the King is the one tasked with maintaining the balance of the worlds. Ask yourself, has he been following his own rules lately?" He paused, searching her eyes.

She faltered visibly, then lifted her chin, "I—"

Aizen interrupted, pressing his advantage. "Has he ever truly taken actions for the benefit of the world? I would think that you, of all people, Kirio, would be aware of the harsh measures he has employed against individuals who oppose his rule. What was it that happened to your own family?" He tilted his head, a mocking smile on his face.

Hikifune flushed and she raised her sword defensively. "That is ancient history. And we must obey the laws or our society will fall apart." Her chest heaved and Orihime saw the muscles in her jaw clench.

"You are repeating well-worn words," Aizen retorted. "How many times have you repeated that mantra to support his injustice?" He took a step forward.

She shook her head. "Do not come any closer," she demanded, lifting her sword further.

Aizen halted, raising an arm and gesturing to Orihime. "Do you recognize this woman?"

Hikifune's face was puzzled, as though she did not expect such words from Aizen. She glanced at Orihime, and the girl felt the shinigami probing her reiatsu. She firmed her lips and returned the woman's gaze without flinching.

Something passed over Hikifune's face, but she said, shaking her head, "No. Should I?"

Aizen raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't?" He inclined his head toward Orihime. "Isn't there something familiar in her reiatsu?"

The woman sent Aizen a dark glance, but returned her scrutiny to Orihime, studying her face carefully and probing her reiatsu once more. She hesitated.

"Do you recall that incident, so many decades ago," Aizen continued softly, "when the king exiled so many members of the strongest noble families to the human world?"

Hikifune's face darkened and her eyes flashed to Aizen. "You will not break my resolve this way, Sousuke. No matter what my personal feelings are, my duty is clear. Something you have forgotten long ago in your selfish quest for personal glory and power!"

Aizen ignored her outburst. "Surely you remember two young nobles in particular. One of them was Masaki Shiba. And the other…" he paused for a moment, scrutinizing her, "your own daughter. Do you even remember her name?" he mused.

"Silence!" shouted the tall woman, lifting her sword.

Now Aizen had moved forward, but his sword remained sheathed at his side. He stared directly into Hikifune's eyes, his voice relentless. "Your daughter, forced to live the short remainder of her life as a mortal, simply because she had the courage to rebel against injustice. The injustice of the king."

"No," said Hikifune, shaking her head. Her eyes returned to Orihime, and an odd emotion was rising in them.

"Your daughter died," Aizen went on gently. "But before she passed on, she had a child in the human world. She died in childbirth, as humans do, and her child was put up for adoption. That child stands before you now."

Hikifune swayed, her eyes on Orihime, who drew in her breath sharply. "What…?" she began.

Aizen raised his voice, continuing. "Extend your senses, Kirio. You can tell what I say is true if you feel her power. Orihime is your granddaughter, Kirio, abandoned to the tender mercies of adoptive human parents who mistreated her. She lived a life of sorrow, overlooked and belittled by even the humans who call her 'friend,' until I found her and brought her away from all that."

"No," Hikifune cried. Orihime, shocked and upset, looked between Aizen and the tall woman confronting each other. The woman dropped her sword and buried her face in her hands.

Orihime thought for a moment Aizen would strike the defenseless woman, but he did not move for his sword. Orihime turned to him, fury building in her at how Aizen was still withholding information strategically in order to manipulate everyone in accordance with his schemes. "Why haven't you told me this before?" she demanded.

Aizen glanced at her. "You never asked me about your background," he murmured with faint amusement.

Orihime's eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything, Aizen gestured for her to be silent.

The woman in front of them had finally raised her head from her hands. Tears were leaking from her eyes.

"Do you want to know what happened to Orihime, what cruelties were visited upon her in the human world?" Aizen pressed on relentlessly. "Is this the type of behavior you want to defend and condone?"

Hikifune squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No," she whispered.

"Then step aside," urged Aizen. "Can you not feel the soul imbalance now? It has become too extreme to ignore. Allow us to correct this injustice at last. And once that thing on the spirit throne is finally gone, we can restore the balance of the worlds." He paused, looking at the trembling woman before him. "There is not much time left. You must let me through now." His voice was gentle, pitying.

Orihime stared at the woman—her grandmother? What did it mean about her heritage? She glanced at Aizen, but he was completely focused on the woman before him, and clearly would not be explaining anything anytime soon.

At last Hikifune raised her head and her eyes flashed. She took a step to the side and called out to the rest of the Royal Guard. "Step aside! Allow this man and his people to pass!"

There was a murmuring among the ranks of the men and women massed at the top of the stairs. Several stood to one side, but a few broke ranks and flash-stepped through the high portal behind them, entering the palace.

Orihime glanced once more at Hikifune, but the woman had vanished.

Aizen, an expression of triumph on his face, was mounting the stairs toward the royal palace, his blade held high. "Come," he shouted as he made a sweeping gesture to the army below. Orihime scrambled to follow, pushing down all the questions that had arisen in her mind.

The battle to defeat the spirit king lay before them.

XxXxXxX

Aizen strode through the grand, empty halls of the spirit palace as though he owned the building. Orihime ran behind him, and the others followed. The palace was luxurious and fantastically beautiful; their feet trod on intricately patterned marble floors inlaid with semi-precious stones, rhodochrosite, malachite, lapis lazuli. The walls were hung with ancient tapestries upon which fantastical figures of animals and humans cavorted or battled. Orihime wished she could stop and examine them, but Aizen did not pause nor even glance to either side.

At last they came to a huge, central courtyard. Vast doors with panes of glass a hundred feet tall stood open, framing a colossal circular fountain surrounded by a wall of stone. From the center of the fountain, a spectacular jet of water sprayed hundreds of feet into the air. Orihime looked up, and up, and up.

The walls of the palace surrounded the courtyard, graced by fragrant vines winding around intricately carved stone arches and spires embedded with specks of quartz or mica, glittering in the brilliant sunlight. Far, far overhead, a cloudless blue sky was visible above the arches and spires.

The water of the fountain glowed with golden light, brilliant even in full sun. And as Orihime watched, the color of the light gradually changed from golden to deep blue, as though sunlight were fading to twilight. The myriad drops of water shimmered, turning from a spray of a million tiny gems of topaz to ones of sapphire. And as it did she felt the jewel at her own throat quiver, a pulsating warmth rising from within to caress her skin. She touched it with a single finger and it quieted.

But there was no time for her to wonder what was happening. At the far end of the courtyard stood a huge throne. Carved of a single block of white marble, and inlaid in the patterns she had seen throughout the palace, semi-precious stones laying out a repeating border of graceful curls and strokes that almost looked like a script, words that perhaps once had meaning in a language written so long ago that even the sounds of it were forgotten. Orihime shivered.

And hunched against one vast arm of the throne was… a man? As they approached, she saw the dark, misshapen figure appeared more like a monkey, a tiny, wrinkled, dark-skinned creature with arms that were too short for its scrawny torso. Sightless eyes, yellowish sclera surrounding pale irises and pupils completely hazed over with a thick grayish film, a squat, pitted nose, and a slash of a lipless mouth protruded from seamed, deeply lined skin and Orihime swallowed.

The creature opened its mouth. "How dare you disturb the throne of the rightful King?" it squeaked, the voice cracking and wandering in pitch.

Aizen halted at the base of the throne, looking up at the King. "Are you aware that your worlds are crumbling?"

"Lies. All lies," said the King mechanically. It raised an arm and a dozen or more of the Royal Guard stepped forward from behind the throne to face the invaders.

Aizen said softly, "You have artificially extended your life with the sacrifice of human souls, but you have become weak and have failed to perform your duties to the worlds you rule. You refused to intervene when enemies beset the Seireitei. When I created a powerful race of soldiers to overrun your domain, you waited in safety and allowed the Gotei 13 and a handful of human children to defend your throne. And now, when the Quincies you ordered exterminated are wreaking vengeance not only on Soul Society but on the entire universe, you order the Royal Guard to defend your person."

He shook his head. "They call me evil and selfish, but no one has ever called me a coward."

The creature's sightless eyes flashed. "You are a fool to defy me. Your power is nothing compared to the divine power that flows through the spirit fountain… power that flows only to the rightful King."

Aizen smiled with utter confidence. "Then let us begin." He raised his sword.


	27. Chapter 27

**The Challenge – Chap. 27**

(Originally posted 8/23/12.)

XxXxXxX

The King leaped in a flash from the throne straight into the spirit fountain. Suddenly the spray of water turned a dark grey, but at the same time the body of the King began to glow with a brilliant white actinic light. Orihime had to shade her eyes from the blinding light. At the same time, jets of light shot forth from the King, connecting him to each of the members of the Royal Guard. At once each of them straightened and drew their sword.

As one, the Guard advanced on Aizen and his followers.

There was a clash of swords as fights broke out all around the fountain. Orihime darted back to defend Aizen and observe what was going on. The Royal Guardsmen's motions were all mechanical as the jets of light from the fountain wove back and forth, endowing each of them with vastly powerful reiatsu. Orihime could feel the power emanating from each of them and she shivered.

Ulquiorra was in his released form, fighting with a Guardsman and barely holding his own. She could feel the tremendous blasts as Ulquiorra's power attacked the Guard and was deflected, followed by colossal blows from the Guardsman's sword just barely parried by the Espada. Then she gasped as the Guard pressed forward and with a sudden sweeping blow got through Ulquiorra's guard and then with one arm reached around the Espada's slender torso and began to squeeze. To her surprise, Ulquiorra dropped his sword, and then she saw to her horror that his entire body had been vaporized where he had been touched by the Guardsman. His disconnected upper chest and legs fell to the ground.

She cried out and wanted to run to him, but another fighter was in the way, blocking her. Her blood ran cold as she realized that the super-powered Guardsmen were defeating Aizen's army. All around the room, fragments of bodies lay on the ground.

"Hah!" shrieked the King. "Nothing can stand against my power, the power of the Spirit Realm!"

Two Guards were attacking Aizen, whose blade was flashing so rapidly Orihime couldn't even distinguish the strokes. But she could see that Aizen was tiring. After the long day of repeated battles, even with his godlike stamina, he was faltering. One arm dropped for a moment and one of the Guards almost reached him. But surely, Orihime thought, he was immortal; he could not be killed, right?

The King laughed again. "You will soon die, Aizen. Your failed rebellion ends here. I alone can defeat your immortality. That stone in your chest will be split from you with the power of the Royal Realm." With an abrupt gesture, he deflected a beam of light from the fountain to impact Aizen squarely in the chest.

The brown-haired shinigami shuddered under the blow. And as Orihime watched, the beam of light from the fountain began drilling into the Hougyoku embedded in Aizen's chest, causing it to lose coherence. Aizen choked and fell to one knee, his sword drooping. The two Guardsmen pressed their advantage, coming closer.

Orihime's heart twisted in agony. He couldn't die! Not after everything he had done, not when he was finally going to do something to benefit the world… and a tiny voice whispered, and not when he had finally truly confessed that he loved her.

But what could she do with her own abilities? She could not reject the Hougyoku; that would not accomplish anything more than speeding up his demise. She wondered if she could reject the fountain or the King, but as she reached out she realized that the vastness of their power was beyond her abilities to defeat.

Or was it?

Eyes narrowed, she suddenly threw her hands out and called up her shield. "Santen Kisshun!" she shouted, and poured all the force of her intent into the energies she was releasing, her resolve powered by her emotion, her desire to save this man from death. Her fairies spun from her hairpins and she felt the colossal strength of her power… not to attack the King or the fountain but to sever the golden beams of light connecting the fountain to the Guardsmen attacking Aizen and to the Hougyoku.

Her shield sprung into existence, brighter and thicker and more powerful than she had ever seen it before. The beams of light struck it and splattered, spraying around, dissipating their energy.

And behind her shield, the two Guardsmen crumpled and fell like puppets with their strings cut. The Hougyoku, which had been blurring and fading, suddenly regained its sharp edges and once again glowed. She felt its healing energy regenerating Aizen's injured body. Abruptly he stood up, and with a single stroke cut off both of the Guardsmen's heads.

Then he shouted, "Orihime! Create a horizontal shield and lift me into the fountain."

Immediately, she complied. The glowing platform carried him forward and straight into the source of the water, which immediately turned a brilliant white as Aizen entered the circular base of the fountain. Aizen raised his sword and without a word, plunged it straight into the heart of the tiny man still glowering at the center of the fountain.

There was an abrupt tremor, as though a giant hand had grasped the entire palace like a toy and shaken it. All around the room, fights broke off as people fell to the floor. The beams of light animating the Guards suddenly cut off.

And a high-pitched squeal, almost beyond her range of hearing, began emanating from the small figure at the center of the fountain. It increased in intensity, feeling like two ice-cold needles drilling into both her ears, until they met in the center of her head. She clasped her hands to her ears, hoping to avoid the pain.

Aizen did not flinch, even as the fountain and palace around him shook and rumbled. He held his sword in place and it seemed like an electric current was running down his sword and ripping apart the body of the King, who was shaking, continuing to scream.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" the King was shrieking. "You can't end this! I'll live forever! All it takes is more souls! More power! Bring them to me!" he cried.

And then his voice began to fade, and he slowly crumpled to his knees. All around him, the water and light of the fountain splashed and inundated him, and as Orihime watched, she saw him gradually becoming smaller, folding in on himself, imploding in slow motion, until with a last shriek he was gone.

The courtyard was suddenly quiet. In the pregnant silence, still bathed in the radiant light of the fountain that appeared to be water but that did not drench him, Aizen stepped off the glowing orange shield and onto the central platform of the fountain where the King had been standing. The glittering water spun and frothed all around him, its brilliant white glow increasing, increasing, until Orihime had to look away. When she peeked out again from behind her spread fingers, Aizen was standing erect, arms outstretched and head thrown back, immersed in the radiance of the fountain, blazing like a white star, every part of his body outlined in brilliance, the Hougyoku at the center of his chest sparkling like a blue diamond.

Tentatively, she extended her senses. The power flows were so immense that it was hard to understand what was happening. The entire courtyard was inundated with spirit particles, radiating from the fountain and permeating everyone present, especially Aizen who appeared to have become a gigantic magnet for spirit power. She could barely recognize him; he had gone from incredibly strong to beyond imagining. She could feel the universe readjusting itself around him, could feel his formidable will aligning the world to his desires.

She shivered. He had become all-powerful, almighty.

What would he do with absolute power? In her mind echoed the sayings she had heard about absolute power corrupting. But the sayings never mentioned what would happen to a soul that was already corrupt, if it acquired absolute power. Which path would Aizen take? Was the evil he had done merely in service of his own goals? Would he turn the universe into a dark plaything, the lives of everything in it mere baubles for his amusement? Or would he simply allow it to go down into destruction?

She could sense, now, the balance of the universe eroding, like the last few grains of sand in an hourglass… soon it would topple, fall, and the universe as she knew it would be over.

Would Aizen save it? Or would he let it go? He would surely live on no matter what, with the confluence of his own already formidable powers, the Hougyoku, and the vast forces emanating from the spirit realm.

As the time slipped away for the universe as she knew it, she wondered what was going on in Aizen's head. The world had never treated him well. He might choose to destroy it all and remake it in his own image; a god playing with his new toy. He had never cared much for the souls of others; would it matter to him if everyone died?

She watched him as he stood in the fountain of flame in those last few minutes.

As he stood within the shimmering waters, his eyes met hers, and he smiled. Would a god have use for a human woman, she wondered? Then in a moment, he had somehow reached out for her and levitated her to his side. She gasped as the stream of the spirit fountain struck her human body. But within Aizen's protection, rather than tearing apart her fragile human bones and muscles, instead it annealed her, protected her, changed her… she could feel her soul adapting, transforming, becoming something other than human, stronger, different.

She held still as the light flared all around her, warm in the circle of Aizen's arms.

And then she felt it. He was adjusting the balance of the worlds. She could feel him transferring the confluence of souls weighing down one part of the universe to another part, bringing all into balance… and she could feel the cracking and splitting she had begun to feel in the fabric of the universe mending itself.

Like a huge, grinding machine, it was ponderously moving back into a stable position. Aizen was guiding it back into place, his delicate, powerful touches moving everything back into stability.

As she felt everything right itself, a series of beams of light shot out from the fountain, touching all the dead and dismembered bodies there in the courtyard, healing them instantly. She watched, her eyes wide, as Ulquiorra sat up slowly, one hand to his belly. Then he stood up, gazing up at Aizen still standing in the center of the fountain, and fell to one knee. All around them, the others, both from their army and the Royal Guard, were rising, looking around themselves in wonder.

The fountain blazed.

And then, slowly, each of the members of the Royal Guard turned to the center of the fountain where Aizen stood, and then they all dropped to their knees and bowed their heads to their new King.

Orihime looked up at the man she had fallen so hopelessly in love with, and saw his eyes flame with triumph and power.

He had won.

Aizen had become the Spirit King.


	28. Chapter 28

**The Challenge – Chap. 28**

**A/N: **This is the final chapter before the epilogue.

(Originally posted 8/28/12.)

XxXxXxX

Power. The power of a god. At last, at long last it was his, his to use or abuse, to dole out or withhold, utter and delicious power over every soul in the universe. No one could touch him now. They all existed at his whim and for his amusement.

Aizen walked slowly up the marble steps of the dais in the spacious public chamber of his throne room, a room of elaborate luxury on the other side of the palace from the courtyard with the spirit fountain and its raw, primal power. Here was where he would see to the governance of his new kingdom, the political center of the palace. He seated himself upon the tall golden throne, the throne occupied only yesterday by the pitiful creature known as the Spirit King. The _former _Spirit King. He allowed himself to savor his triumph, the pure pleasure in his achievement, the victory that had been centuries in the planning.

In the sumptuous throne room, below him, were many beings: favored members of his army, his agents among the royal guard, his secret supporters over the long decades of waiting. He heard their cheers and adulation as he ascended to the throne of the world. There was a ripple throughout the vast throne room as they all, with varying degrees of true loyalty or sycophantism, knelt before him, bowing in supplication before their god.

He smiled as he extended a hand to the beautiful woman beside him, to help her to the throne placed at his side. Her face was expressionless, but her hand was warm and trusting in his. He felt a wave of deep satisfaction at her presence beside him. Not only did he rule all the worlds, but he had won the most beautiful, powerful, and compassionate woman in the universe to his side. She was there not under duress but because she loved him. She understood everything he was and still she loved him.

His eyes flicked over the kneeling crowd before him. He had chosen to keep his shinigami form to appear to his loyal supporters, the appearance he had taken as Lord of Las Noches. It still felt to him like his true form, not the ferocious being of nearly pure energy that he could become at will now that he had evolved to godhood. But now, to celebrate the moment, he released a miniscule fraction of his power. To his followers in the room below, it appeared as though he were glowing with a golden light, and he heard the swell of their insignificant voices crying out in worship.

Power. It elated him, intoxicated him, and now it was all at his fingertips. He reached out with his mind. As the new god of the three worlds, his senses now extended throughout existence. If he so willed it, he could snuff out the life of any being he chose, merely by exerting his will. It was a trivial matter now, to unmake a living thing. He smiled inwardly. How amusing it would be, to play with the souls who had tried to place themselves above him, to watch as they groveled in terror at his feet.

He reached out, searching for Yamamoto, the captain-commander of the Gotei 13, who had once battled him so viciously. The elderly shinigami was wounded, lying on the final battlefield at the gate to the spirit realm, some of the remnants of the fourth squad still hovering around him, their feeble dribbles of reiatsu flowing into the old man.

Idly, he considered ending the shinigami's life. The man had been a thorn in his side for long enough. It would be as simple as lifting a finger. But then he decided that there was no need to indulge himself in senseless revenge. He would let the man live for now. He was no longer a threat. He might even provide entertainment for Aizen later. Besides, he thought idly, it might impress Orihime, perhaps help convince her that he had _changed_, and was not—_completely_—an evil bastard. A smirk crossed his face briefly. He let his mental gaze roam among the grounds of the spirit realm as well as the three worlds, noting the other feeble remnants of his enemies.

The once-proud fighters of the Vandenreich lay scattered on the grounds of Seireitei and Hueco Mundo. When he took the throne he had sent out a pulse of power that reached to the far distances of the universe, and all his enemies had been weakened in a single instant. If they had been in the midst of battle, their opponents had immediately gained the upper hand. He pondered, briefly, considering whether to end their lives with a simple wish. In the past, he would have done anything to have this type of power over his enemies. He would have exulted in the terror he could engender in his victims as he crushed them with careless ease. What did it matter if they lived or died?

And yet… an odd emotion stirred in him, now that he was god of everything. He controlled and owned it all. Why should he destroy his own possessions?

Indeed, there were many who had once been his enemies, but who had ended up as allies.

Ichigo Kurosaki, fallen on the battlefield, fighting to his last breath to defend the Soul Society, for reasons Aizen still could not fathom, lay dying amidst the shinigami he had given his life to save. Aizen could feel his life force draining away. The man was a rival for Orihime's love… and all he needed to do was allow him to die. He could truthfully say to Orihime that he had not killed or attacked him. But then he frowned. Kurosaki was too interesting to allow to pass away. No, with his birthright, he should live so that Aizen could study him further. And… it might distress Orihime if her childhood friend was lost to her for any reason.

Again, with as little effort as he would have expended to raise a finger, he sent his energy into the body of Kurosaki and his allies and nakama, healing them instantly and shoring up their fading reiatsu. At the same time, he reached out with his mind and contacted Ulquiorra. There was no longer any need to exert his voice if he so chose.

"Ulquiorra. Ichigo Kurosaki and several of his friends are lying on the ground at the south end of the main gardens. I want you to bring them to my private quarters in an hour."

He felt the light, emotionless touch of his fourth Espada's mind. "Of course, Aizen-sama."

The King smiled and lidded his eyes as he relaxed against the back of his throne. He could see that there were endless possibilities for… entertainment… in being a god.

XxXxXxX

Aizen was lounging carelessly on a huge white couch, his royal robes swirling around him, as Ichigo was brought before him.

The orange-haired youth was scowling even more ferociously than usual, Aizen noted with amusement. It was a good thing he did not expect gratitude for saving this one's life.

"Kneel," Ulquiorra ordered tonelessly. "Kneel to your King and your God."

Angrily shrugging off the Espada's hold, Ichigo stood defiantly upright. He glared at Aizen. "What have you done to Inoue?" he demanded.

Aizen greeted him politely. "I will tell you," he murmured, "after we have some tea." He nodded to Ulquiorra, who bowed and left, and gestured to the elegant silver tea service laid out upon a table of beautiful inlaid hardwood. "Come, sit with me, Ichigo. We have much to discuss."

The boy narrowed his eyes. "What could I possibly have to discuss with you, Aizen?" He practically spat the name.

The brown-haired King looked at him. So deliciously defiant, and so fearless. It was enjoyable, but could become annoying if the boy kept derailing their conversation. He did have information and instructions to impart. Perhaps it was time for a small but potentially entertaining demonstration.

"I am aware of every muscle fiber in your body, Ichigo, and every blood corpuscle passing through your veins," he commented.

The youth's brow wrinkled. "So?" he demanded.

"It means that it is just as easy for me to control any molecule in your body as it is for me to lift up a feather." Idly, he conjured a brilliant white goose feather and held it up for the boy to see.

Ichigo still looked puzzled, so Aizen made a tiny adjustment in the world around him.

The boy gasped. Entering his mind, Aizen saw that he was becoming dizzy. Spots were appearing before his eyes, and the edges of his vision darkened. Ichigo clutched at the table to remain upright, panting. He was about to lose consciousness…

Aizen released the hold he had placed on Ichigo's internal carotid artery, and the boy blinked, shook his head. His brain still felt fuzzy from lack of oxygen, and he struggled to get himself under control. Breathing harshly, he placed his hands on the floor to hold himself up, then realized he had no memory of how he had fallen to the floor, how he was now kneeling before Aizen. He tried to stand up but was still too weak, so he glared at the man before him instead.

"That is merely a small demonstration, Ichigo," Aizen said kindly to the gasping youth. "I bear you no ill will; I merely wish to make it quite clear that your powers and mine are no longer even remotely on the same level. You may have been emboldened by your attack on me during the final battle in Karakura Town, but the situation has changed dramatically."

He paused to make sure the boy was listening.

"I am now the Spirit King. While retaining all the abilities and powers I had as a transcendent being, I am also now connected with the fundamental source that powers the universe, as channeled through the Spirit Fountain."

"Why are you telling me this?" ground out Ichigo, finally struggling to his feet.

"Because I want you to know that there is no benefit to you or anyone in defying me," responded Aizen. "Indeed, should you wish to gain anything, your most successful course lies in speaking and reasoning with me. I hope that you will take that course of action in the future." The boy was panting and still dizzy; he waited a moment for him to catch his breath. "Now then. I wish to discuss Orihime."

Ichigo's mouth tightened, his eyes still defiant. "If you hurt Inoue, I'll defeat you," he declared. "I don't care how powerful you are."

Aizen raised a brow. "Such bravado," he mocked gently. "I would like to redirect that courage to a more practical target."

"What—" the boy began, still angry, but Aizen held up a hand.

"First, I have absolutely no intention of hurting Orihime. Indeed, I wish the opposite; for her to be protected. She is to become my wife and Queen."

Ichigo paled, his brown eyes widening as he took a step backward in shock. "Your— Queen?" His voice broke on the second syllable.

"Yes," said Aizen, resting his chin on his knuckles as he studied Ichigo's face. "I wish for her to be happy and safe. As her friend, I expect that you can play a large part in achieving my goals with respect to her." He smiled at the dumbfounded boy. "Sit down and have some tea," he urged, pushing a delicate teacup over to the other side of the table.

Ichigo sat, all the fight gone out of him suddenly. "You... want to marry her?" he asked. His face clouded. "Do you love her?" he demanded.

Aizen chuckled. "What, are you playing the part of the protective father, now?" He tilted his head. "It is to your credit, Ichigo, that you are so solicitous of Orihime. Indeed," his face turned stern, "it is why I have allowed you to live, despite your repeated defiance of my rule."

Ichigo frowned. "I just want to protect my friends."

"Yes," replied Aizen patiently. "I have achieved my goals and no longer have any need to harm anything or anyone you hold dear. Now that you see that I do not want to kill one hundred thousand residents of Karakura Town, nor injure your childhood friends, can we hold a peaceful conversation?" At Ichigo's nod, he held up a cube of sugar in a pair of silver tongs. "Sugar?"

Ichigo shook his head, still pale. He took a sip of the steaming tea, unable to meet Aizen's eyes.

Aizen continued, "As Queen of the Spirit Realm, there may be sycophants and opportunists who will try to take advantage of her generous nature. Additionally, she has a simple heart, and is unaccustomed to ceremony and the maneuverings of a Court. She will need friends and companions who will be straightforward and honest with her, as well as keeping malicious individuals at bay. I understand that you have always felt a strong compulsion to protect Orihime from harm. I wish you to maintain that attitude. I expect you to continue to be her friend and visit her from time to time."

He paused and scrutinized the boy's face. His voice acquired an arctic chill. "However, you will serve only me. If you should either harm Orihime or make inappropriate advances toward her, burning in hell for an eternity will be mild compared to the punishments I shall inflict upon you." His eyes blazed. "Do I make myself clear?"

Ichigo swallowed. Then he met Aizen's eyes defiantly. "As long as it's to help Inoue, I'll do it."

"Excellent," Aizen murmured as he relaxed, reclining on the seat languidly. "Who knows? Serve me well and I may reward you with a position in my Court."

He watched with amusement as an expression of revulsion passed across the youth's face.

XxXxXxX

Aizen glanced at her, the Hougyoku in his open palm. Reluctantly, her gaze went to the glowing jewel. She could feel the incredible power emanating from it in heavy waves, almost knocking her off her feet.

"The Hougyoku," he whispered, "can grant you your one deepest wish." He held it out to her. "I have discovered that its abilities are nearly limitless. The only limits— are in our flawed human natures." He smiled. "The device can manifest whatever is in the minds of those around it… assuming, of course, that the subject inherently possesses the power to fulfill their desire." There was darkness in his eyes. "And, now that I have subdued it, that the wish aligns with my own desires."

Orihime swallowed. Almost against her will, she moved forward to gaze more closely into the device in Aizen's outstretched palm.

Her heart's deepest desire… she did not even need to think for a moment about what it might be. Her mind, body, and soul were already crying out, the pain she had suppressed for nearly two years overwhelming her, agonizing. She shuddered and closed her eyes.

Behind her eyelids, she could see the jewel glowing in her inner eye like a small sun against a backdrop of empty space. She was loose within the universe now, flying, whirling, spinning around the sun and the stars.

Off in the distance, she heard voices calling, singing, a high thin shivering tone, like celestial spheres turning within each other, striking ethereal, bell-like notes in her inner ear. And then she was traveling, fast, moving with the speed of light toward a single voice, a single mote of light.

Within her arose a tremendous joy and a feeling of deep familiarity, as she held out her arms to the tiny, quivering mote of light.

And then it was merging with her, entering her so that she screamed in either joy or agony or maybe both… and she was falling, falling into darkness, only to be caught by strong arms…

XxXxXxX

Orihime opened her eyes. She was lying on the huge and elegant bed in the royal suite. The high windows were all thrown open to a brilliant spring day, and the sweet scent of jasmine was wafting in through the open windows overlooking the royal garden.

Aizen stood to one side, looking down on her with a proud smile on his face. Beside him, Captain Unohana of the Fourth Squad was putting away a device in a small black bag. She saw that Orihime was awake and smiled at her gently.

"Congratulations," she said softly. "You're pregnant, and the fetus is healthy. You're fine, and you're going to be having a little girl."

Orihime gasped, and her hand reached out to meet Aizen's warm, strong fingers. She closed her eyes a moment, searched within herself, and felt that tiny consciousness deep within. She sent loving thoughts to it as she relaxed against the pile of satin pillows.

Unohana stood up and prepared to leave. She gave Aizen one last glance. "I'm glad," she said quietly, "that you finally got everything you really wanted, Sousuke. Just make sure you take care of it the way it should be taken care of, or you may lose everything." Then she swept out of the room.

Aizen shook his head. "She always makes me a little nervous," he admitted to Orihime with a wry twist of his lips. Then his fingers curled over Orihime's belly and he exchanged an affectionate glance with his Queen.

His gaze traveled to the tall windows at one end of the room that overlooked the gardens. The lake glittered off in the distance. Although his mind already teemed with ideas and plans for how he would develop and shape the worlds now under his command, he could not help but feel a rather peaceful kind of pleasure at the thought of enjoying time with his family-to-be in those beautiful gardens. He held Orihime's hand loosely in his and smiled.

After all, he had an eternity to remake the world the way it should be.

~THE END~


	29. Chapter 29  Epilogue

**The Challenge – Chap. 29 Epilogue: Proposal**

**A/N:** This is an epilogue: Aizen's marriage proposal to Orihime. Hope you enjoy!

(Originally posted 9/6/12.)

XxXxXxX

Aizen lifted the cup of jasmine tea to his lips and examined the woman sitting across the elegant rosewood table from him. Her eyes were downcast and her flood of auburn hair stirred slightly in the breeze. The French doors leading to the balcony were open, allowing warm, fragrant air into the spacious sitting room in the royal quarters.

"To start with, Orihime, I would like to thank you for your assistance during the final battle." He watched her face carefully. "Without your aid, it is likely that I would have gone down to death."

Her eyes rose and met his, and he was pleased to see a stricken look deep within them. He saw her jaw firm. She took a deep breath and said, "In that case, since you are indebted to me, I would like to ask for something in return."

He shifted on the brocade cushions, his eyes narrowing. "Indebted? I don't think so. Haven't I told you that I don't accept limitations on my actions?"

She inhaled sharply. "Are you saying I can't ask you for anything?"

"Oh, you can ask, my dear." He took another sip of the freshly brewed tea. "But I will not be compelled. You should know me well enough by now."

Her lips firmed. "Very well then. I—"

"You may ask, but first I have certain things to say to you," he interrupted.

Her eyes narrowed and it gave him a tiny thrill to see the fiery anger appear on her face. That was much better. She had been altogether too subdued since his ascension to godhood and it had started to disturb him.

"Well," she retorted, "before you start issuing commands to me, let's get one thing straight. Of course I know that you now have absolute power over me and everybody else in the world."

His eyes lit with a wicked delight at her words and he relaxed against the cushions. "Ah yes." He quirked an eyebrow and made a tiny gesture. Instantly, she was no longer on the chair across the table from him, but sitting beside him on the couch, encircled by one of his arms. She stiffened at the sudden transport, but made no attempt to pull away. He raised a hand languidly and traced a line on her face, trailing his fingers down to her throat. He heard her sharp intake of breath at the sensations, and smiled. She met his eyes with the defiant flare still present.

"What are you doing, Sousuke?" she demanded. "I thought we were going to talk."

"We are," he said with a mild smirk. "If I wanted something else I would have removed your clothes as well."

The furrow in her forehead deepened as she frowned. "Your arrogance has not been improved by ascension to the throne. You didn't even let me fin-mmph." Her words were muffled as he drew her face to his and took her lips in a kiss. They were soft and warm, and at first he could feel her small hands on his chest pushing him away, but after a few moments he felt her relax. He was demanding, taking his pleasure in her warm and jasmine flavored mouth at his leisure, his tongue exploring her as his hands buried themselves in her hair. He pressed his body to hers and felt the sparks of mingled reiatsu dance over his nerve endings. He relished the way she first trembled, and then gradually became excited and clutched him, returning his kiss eagerly. For a few moments he simply lost himself in her.

After a long time, he finally released her. Her face was flushed and her eyes had softened. He smiled down at her. "What was it you were saying?"

He savored the return of the fire to her eyes. "I won't be your plaything," she said. "I won't accept it if you threaten me or my friends."

He leaned back and studied her. The temptation to be cruel to her, to toy with her the way he so often played with his subordinates, indulging himself in his absolute control, rose up within him with the familiar frisson of anticipation of dark pleasure.

But with the ease of centuries of practice in self control, he merely lifted one eyebrow. "I have no intention to threaten," he assured her. He wanted to initiate their relationship properly. Although he knew she was strong, he also knew there had never been a soul born he could not crush or otherwise damage beyond repair. It was even more of a risk now that he was a god. He wanted to take his time exploring the new ramifications of all his relationships. He was accustomed to having others fear him, and the delicate technique of keeping the defiant ones just on the edge between rebellion and submission had always intrigued him. Still, he wanted something different with Orihime. He had not yet fully explored exactly what it was, but he wanted to make sure that he did not destroy any potential through carelessness. New beginnings were so fragile.

Above all, he wanted her as a companion and not as a subordinate. He had plenty of those.

"As I was saying," he continued, "before you interrupted me, I am grateful for your assistance, and wish to offer you a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes." He stopped and regarded her. "As you know, I would like to plan our wedding soon." A tiny line appeared in her forehead at his words and he smiled inwardly. "I am aware that I have not formally proposed to you, my dear, and I would like to rectify that as soon as possible. I would not like you to think that I did not respect your wishes. So I have a question for you." He allowed the smile to blossom on his lips.

She tilted her head and looked inquisitive.

"I could make the proposal a beautiful, utterly romantic scenario." He eyed her. "Or," he continued, his smile turning slightly wicked, "I could be truthful."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You should know me by now," she returned his words to him in a slightly mocking tone. "Of course I want the truth."

He relaxed, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch, as the slow smile lit his eyes."You are truly worthy."

She glared at him, but could not hold the frown, eventually shaking her head ruefully.

"Now then," he began, "I'm relieved that I will not have to kneel at your feet with a jewelry box in my hand." He watched as she rolled her eyes. "The gift of truth then. My dear Orihime, as I'm certain you are aware, I never _ask_ for anything. I take what I want. And then I arrange things so that there will be no negative consequences for me personally. I do not care about the consequences to others. This is how it has been for hundreds of years, with regards to objects, wealth, authority, influence, or... souls." He raised his eyebrows with an arrogant gesture. "And as you can see, that approach has been quite successful for me." She frowned slightly, and he leaned forward to take her hand. "But today..."

He held her eyes with his, and she was taken aback by the intensity in their depths.

"Today, however, I am going to do something different. I am going to _ask_ you to marry me, and it will be a completely free choice on your part. Regardless of your answer, I promise I will not harm you or your friends." She opened her mouth as though she was going to say something, but he held up his hand to stop her. "What's more, I promise that in the future, I will never threaten you or your friends with harm as a means to coerce you. You may live your life, either with or without me, free from the fear of my power."

Her eyes widened but she did not say anything as he continued. "Nevertheless, I am hopeful that you will accept my proposal, because although I need no one, I want and yearn for your presence beside me, your love to fill my days and nights, your support and even your advice throughout my rule." He ran a hand through his hair and continued. "Most of all, I wish for that deep connection that includes and goes beyond friendship and companionship and reaches toward completion: one soul calling out to another in the darkness, with a love that I have never felt before nor even dreamed I was capable of feeling." He paused, his eyes searching hers, aware that for the first time there was vulnerability in his. "You know who I am and what I have done; I have gone beyond redemption. What's more, I do not think I am capable of changing. I do not ask for your forgiveness, only your acceptance.

"Orihime, will you marry me?"

She stared at him, at those dark eyes, and it struck her anew all the wickedness those eyes had seen, had delighted in, had commanded. Did she truly want to tie herself for an eternity to this man? Someone with no conscience, who used people at his whim, who killed simply because it was convenient for his purposes... someone who was selfish and evil in all aspects of the word.

And yet, and yet... she had seen it in him—his soul was not of unrelieved darkness. She had witnessed him commit unselfish acts, display surprising emotions, and evidence an odd humanity that surfaced at unexpected moments. He had a brilliant and wide ranging mind, was more intelligent than anyone she had ever known, a fascinating companion, even capable of consideration in his own way... and somehow, she still believed that he might turn out to be a better ruler and god than anyone expected.

But what mattered more than any of this... she loved him. It might be wrong of her to love someone like him, but she could not help herself. She could not help that her soul longed for his with a passion that swept through her days and scorched her nights. She could not help that she belonged with him, regardless of his past or her future.

She looked up into his dark, dark eyes, and said, "Yes. Yes, I will, Sousuke."

XxXxXxX

**A/N: **Let me know if you want the URL and password for the site where I'm going to post the uncensored version of this story.

Also, I'm planning a sequel that will begin with the wedding scene. Please let me know if you'd like to be notified when I start posting that story.


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